Stop Haunting Me
by chezchuckles
Summary: A Ghost on the Canvas sequel by Sandiane Carter and chezchuckles. Beth Beckett is coming back to New York City. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Stop Haunting Me**

(Ghost on the Canvas 2)

by **Sandiane Carter **and **chezchuckles**

* * *

><p>I'm not calling you a ghost, just stop haunting me<br>And I love you so much, I'm gonna let you kill me

There's a ghost in my lungs and it sighs in my sleep  
>Wraps itself around my tongue as it softly speaks<br>Then it walks, then it walks with my legs  
>To fall at your feet<p>

There but for the grace of God go I  
>And when you kiss me, I am happy enough. . .<p>

-I'm Not Calling You a Liar, Florence + the Machine

* * *

><p>When he sorts his mail in the kitchen, he finds the postcard. It depicts two giraffes with their feet splayed, necks dipped to a watering hole somewhere in Africa. The giraffes are spindly, the water grey-blue against the browns and yellows of the landscape.<p>

Castle flips the postcard over and sees Beth's handwriting, cramped to get in as much as she can, but still fluid and thin and graceful. A lot like Kate's handwriting. The card is postmarked from Mbarara, Uganda, where Beth has been working with a relief agency.

It's addressed to Kate though. Which makes him smile. Beth has been pushing Kate to move in with him since. . .since forever. Since he met Beth. Kate's younger sister has been sending all of her mail to his address. There's also a postcard for Alexis in the stack as well; he fishes it out and calls for his daughter.

Alexis hops down the stairs with a grin. "Yeah?"

"Postcard from Beth."

"Oooh, awesome. We've been chatting online as much as we can, but with the time difference, it's hard to get everything in."

"So is addressing Kate's postcards to our apartment your idea or Beth's idea?" he says, raising an eyebrow at her as he pulls milk from the fridge.

He hears his daughter's low laugh. "Um. . .kind of a brain storm session on that one."

"You guys are gonna push too hard one of these days," he warns her, but leans forward and kisses her forehead. "Sorry, I didn't make it to dinner. Want some hot chocolate with me?"

"Sure. Let me go get my homework and do it down here. Where's Kate?"

"She's on her way," he replies, shrugging out of his jacket and unbuttoning his collar. Alexis grabs his jacket before he can toss it towards a chair, shakes her head at him, and drapes it over the couch.

"Is she staying the weekend?"

"I think so. I can usually convince her." Truth is, Kate needs very little convincing. He just doesn't understand why she won't move in. "Get your homework. It'll be ready in a few."

He pours milk into a saucepan and turns on the burner. He yawns to himself and rubs his eyes, then hears the key in the lock.

He isn't expecting Kate so soon; she said she wanted to finish paperwork. She pushed him out the door, told him to see his daughter before she had to go to bed.

The front door opens to reveal Kate wrestling to get her key back out of the lock. She complains that he gave her the bad key, the one that sticks, but it works fine for him. He always says that she's transferring her psychological issues to the key instead, that it's all in her head. They both laugh about it.

But it's not really funny. He wants her to stay with him for good, not just for the weekends.

She drops her bag in the hall and the keys on the table, then comes towards the kitchen with a soft, weary smile. But it's a smile. She kicks off her shoes beside the island and steps around it and into his arms, kissing his throat.

He hums and captures her mouth, curling a hand in her hair. "Couldn't stay away?"

She laughs that low, sexy sound that's almost a purr. "Got me."

"Glad you're here," he whispers into her mouth, kissing her again, again, unable to help himself. They steal moments in the precinct of course, a gentleness just inside the elevator, a brushing of hands as they sit down at the interrogation table, a hundred looks, sometimes a hug int he break room. But pressing her against him and having her arch her body into his. . .

He can't get enough of it.

"Alexis still up?"

"Yeah. She's coming downstairs with homework."

"Mm, making hot chocolate?"

"Yeah. Still cold."

She nods and kisses his cheek before stepping back, leaning against the island countertop. "My fingers are still numb."

They spent most of today outside, chasing one lead to the next, rounding up suspects. A homeless man in a drainage culvert, a doctor at a free clinic, a woman panhandling. Leads that eventually led to their arresting a guy for murder.

All in the bitter temperatures. He's not a fan of the cold, but he loves the bright pink it puts in Kate's cheeks, loves the soft sweaters she wears and the gorgeous, designer coats and the way she grows her hair out longer to keep her neck warm.

"Oh," he says suddenly, snapping his fingers. "This came for you." He reaches around her to the stack of mail, digs out the postcard, and hands it over. He turns back to the stove and stirs the milk absently while he watches her read it.

At the end of it, Kate smiles to herself and shakes her head, props up the postcard in front of the fruit bowl on the counter, moves in closer to him. For an instant, Kate lays her head against his back, sighs softly, then she heads for the fridge.

"Tired?" he murmurs, glancing at her warily.

She nods, scanning the fridge with a hand in her hair, raking it back. He's got Kate's finally-home routine down to a science. In thirty seconds, she'll have to grab a rubber band and pull her hair back, and then after that, she's changing into more comfortable clothes.

She shuts the door without taking anything, then turns around, her hand once more going through her hair. "You have any. . .graham crackers?"

"Graham crackers? Uh. You can check. Pantry."

She nods and slips over to the pantry door, opens it and stands in front like she did with the fridge. He watches the milk bubble and adds cocoa and sugar, trying not to let it scorch.

Kate comes over to him with a grin on her face, holding a box of instant hot chocolate. "You gotta do it the hard way?"

"Microwaved water is no good," he grumbles. "You know you love this better."

She leans in and brushes her lips along his jaw. "I do. But-"

"No way. Put the fake stuff back. Did you find graham crackers?"

"Yeah," she says, moving away from him to return the hot chocolate.

"And. . .?"

She turns a bewildered look on him, shrugs. "Not right. I want. . .something else."

"What?"

She shrugs and sighs. "I don't know."

Castle stirs the creamy cocoa and milk, adds a little more sugar, then dribbles vanilla into it as well. He's never seen her like this before, but now that he thinks about it, all day she's been. . .off.

Kate slumps to the bar stool and props her chin in one hand; he wriggles an eyebrow at her and she cracks a smile, tired though it is.

"This will fill you up. Then you and I can find some dinner."

He can hear her stomach growl from where he is. She laughs and clutches a hand to her stomach, shaking her head. "I'm starving."

"Eat some graham crackers, Kate. Something. Jeez." He laughs at her and takes the milk off the burner, stirring it, a little entranced by the sound of the ladle against the saucepan, around and around.

"Ooh, let's order in pizza!"

He lifts an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at her. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," she jumps off the stool and moves around to his side of the kitchen, rifling through the junk drawer for a menu or coupons or something.

"Order from Celeste's," he says, pouring the milk into mugs for all three of them.

"That's expensive-"

"I don't care. It's at least quality pizza." He gives her a funny look; they have a variation of this conversation almost every time. He'll pay extra for the good stuff and she still has these moments of frugality that bely her great-location apartment and her name-brand clothing. Not to mention the shoes.

"All right," she murmurs, pulling the menu out and slipping her phone out of her pocket.

"Alexis!" He puts his daughter's mug at her customary spot and glances towards the stairs in time to see her hurrying down. A textbook cradled against her chest, she's on the phone. Again. She mouths 'thanks' and sits down at the island.

Kate, on the phone with Celeste's, moves away from them, so Castle takes a careful sip of his hot chocolate, wincing as it burns his tongue.

Kate walks back in with a triumphant look. "I ordered three. You demolish one all by yourself, and I could probably do the same. I'm starving."

She brushes a hand over Alexis's braid in greeting, stands at the girl's side at the island. Alexis turns and Castle can see the grin on her face; she hugs Kate.

He reaches out with her mug of hot chocolate, handing it over. "It's hot."

She arches an eyebrow, a rather eloquent way of not saying _no duh_ and wraps both hands around the mug.

"So what did the postcard say?" he asks, leaning his hip against the counter. He figures that staring lustfully at Kate will go over better if he has something to say, an excuse for watching her.

"I actually talked with Beth yesterday."

"Yeah?"

"I think she's planning a visit. Her service agreement ends in a week."

"Oh. And she's gonna come to the city?"

"Those are her plans. She was telling me she sent a postcard; it was funny to see it show up now."

"Alexis got one too," he adds, nodding to his daughter who is still on the phone. Alexis grins back, winces, and gets up from the island, bringing her mug with her. She wanders away.

"Ah, we were being too loud," Castle whispers.

Kate rolls her eyes at him and takes Alexis's seat, brushing her fingertips over the lines of the textbook, the notebook paper. Castle moves around the island to sit beside her.

"You okay, Kate?"

She nods. "Beth is gonna stay with my dad again."

"That seems like a good idea." He wonders if this is an issue, or if she's just slowly leading up to it.

"She asked. . .she might spend a few nights. . .here."

"Sure."

Kate's head swivels towards his, a frown flirting with her lips. "Sure?"

"Well. . .yes. She's your sister. Why can't she stay with us?"

"Us?"

He sighs, winces. He meant it like she took it, but. . . "My daughter and I."

Her shoulders ease. "Yeah. I just. . .I wanted her to stay with me."

"I'm sure your Dad misses her too."

"No, I know. But she wants to stay with you." Her eyebrows knit together; that tendon in her forehead constricts.

Castle reaches out a hand and uses his finger to smooth it. She bats his hand away. "Castle."

"She wants to stay with you, Kate," he says on a sigh. "She's just. . .making a point. Right?"

"A point."

"Like addressing all her postcards here."

Kate sighs. "I wish she would just leave me alone about this."

Inherent in her statement is the wish that Castle himself would leave her alone about it. He really does try to lay off the subject, but it's hard. He wants her with him, at his home. But he does get it. The idea of it anyway.

"We'll make up - I'll make up the guest room for her. Whenever she wants to. She and Alexis can have a slumber party."

Kate sighs again and leans to one side, sipping the hot chocolate he made. "Thank you. I - I'm sorry."

"For what? Beth?"

She shrugs.

"Hey, no need. I like her. She's your sister. She's good to my kid."

Kate nods and rubs at her face, yanking a hand through her hair. "I need a-"

Castle pulls the rubberband out of his pocket and hands it to her. Kate takes it and secures her hair, then reaches over and snags his hand.

He lets her lace their fingers together, then smiles softly at her. He's not sure what's going on with Kate, but he hopes he can make it better. Easier. He wishes he could do that for her.

"I'm fine," she says softly. "Stop looking at me like that."

It's his turn to shrug. "You went to the jail today."

She nods, waiting on him.

"I just. . .it's got to. . .be hard."

"It's not easy," she answers, giving him that much at least.

He wants to get into this, delve into this part of her that needs to meet Lockwood in that jail every week, waiting in silence for answers that don't come. But the door buzzes and Castle imagines he can already smell the pizza. Celeste's is usually quick to deliver to them.

Kate hops up and holds out her hand, raising an eyebrow at him. He grins, loving it, entirely too much maybe, and pulls out his wallet.

She kisses his cheek, takes his money, and goes to pay for their dinner.

* * *

><p>The pizza settles Kate's discontented stomach for a while. She loves the taste of fresh tomato, strong even under the layer of melted cheese, the red and green peppers, crisp and juicy when she takes a bite. She closes her eyes, lets out a moan of pleasure that might or might not be intended for Castle's ears.<p>

Sure enough, his strong arm wraps around her waist, and she shivers when his mouth brushes her temple.

"Stop it right now, Kate Beckett," he warns, his voice low and warm, like honey. Except, much more dangerous.

A smile erupts on her lips, unbidden but irresistible, because of what he does to her. Ten minutes ago, she considered slipping into Castle's bed when she went to change into sweatpants and a shirt; only the delicious smell of the pizza drew her back to the living room.

And now... Now she feels awakened, ready. She wants to play.

"Or what?" She murmurs challengingly, her left hand coming up to palm his cheek.

He takes a sharp breath, then manoeuvres her into his arms, her back meeting the counter. Her heart pounds, welcoming him and the thrill that runs down her spine. Castle takes his time, trails his mouth down her neck, feathers her collarbone, before he comes back up and seals his lips to hers.

She hums her consent, opens up to him, relishing the lazy pace that slowly turns her blood into liquid fire, makes her forget about her day. There's nothing else, no else but him, the languid flick of his tongue against hers, the demanding fingers that dig into her waist.

It's still a mystery to her, how he does that. How quickly, how thoroughly he wipes her mind clean, turns her into this breathless, expectant stranger.

Kate's phone buzzes, the sounds amplified by the marble of the countertop.

She keeps her eyes closed against it, feels Castle's disbelieving growl pouring into her. Still, after only a few seconds, he lets her go, reaches for the phone. She doesn't want to take it. Her day's over; she just wants to lose herself in the man standing right next to her. Surely she can ignore this?

Rick must read the reluctance on her face; he laughs, looking entirely too delighted at her reaction. Okay, well. She snatches the phone from him - might as well see what this is about.

Beth's name is flashing on the screen. Surprised, Kate presses the answer button, mouths her sister's name at Castle. His eyebrows arch in an unvoiced question, and she shrugs.

"Hey, sister," Beth's voice says gaily on the other end of the line, a little breathless, almost drawn out by the surrounding noise.

"Hey yourself," Kate answers, sliding off the bar stool, because she can't stay still when she's on the phone. When her feet touch the ground, though, she experiences a moment of dizziness and sways, catches herself with the help of Castle's arm. He shoots her a concerned look; she waves him off.

She barely ate anything today - the pizza was probably a little too much at once.

Beth is babbling on the phone, like she does when she's nervous, asking questions about Kate's life, too fast for Beckett to make any sort of answer. When she has to stop for breath, the detective asks, "Beth, where are you?"

Her sister laughs, but it's not the usual, bright, confident thing.

"Well, actually, I'm... I'm at the airport. JFK."

There's a beat of silence as Kate adjusts to that unexpected piece of information.

"You mean - you're here? In New York?"

Castle's eyebrows shoot up, but the makings of a smile quickly appear on his face. Beckett registers that, even though her attention is on her sister's voice.

"Yes, yes. In New York. I was going to call Dad, but, you live closer, and I didn't want to worry him..."

"Is there any reason for him to worry?"

Again that breathless, embarrassed little laugh, so unlike Beth. What's going on?

"No, of course not. It's just, I'm coming in early -"

"Yeah, I can hear that. I wasn't expecting you until next week."

Kate tries to take the sharpness out of her voice, but she's never been good at dealing with the unexpected – not in her personal life, anyway. But this is her sister, her little sister, she tells herself, and the warmth that spreads in her chest is real, if a little slow in coming.

"Kate, if this is bothering you..."

"No, no. Don't be silly. I'll meet you at the airport, Beth."

"I can take a cab -"

"Shut up," Beckett says playfully. "You know how much Castle enjoys calling his car service. Well, unless you don't want to wait?"

"Oh, I still have to get my luggage, anyway. And I'm starving, Katie. I'll just order something at the bar and wait for you."

"Sounds like a plan. See you in about forty minutes?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Kate."

Why does she sound so…serious?

"Sure," Kate answers slowly, her brow furrowing. Her sister hangs up the phone and she does the same, pulling her lower lip in between her teeth.

"Everything alright?" Rick asks, his head tilted, watching her intently.

A familiar glimmer of gentle concern is lighting his blue eyes; Kate finds herself smiling at him, stepping into his embrace. She brushes her lips to his neck, his adam's apple, rests her forehead against his jaw.

"Yeah, Rick. I think she's just tired from the long flight."

"So I'm calling the town car, huh?"

Kate sighs. "I don't really feel up to driving tonight."

Castle's mouth moves, warm and inviting, along her hairline. It's a light, tender touch; she doesn't understand the eager response that flares to life inside her.

"If you wanted to stay home, you could have told her to take a cab," he points out.

She closes her eyes, shakes her head. "Mm, no. She's my sister, Castle."

"Or I could go and pick her up, let you stay here and unwind."

A smile sneaks its way onto Kate's lips. "And have the two of you swap whatever Kate stories you still haven't told each other? I don't think so."

He chuckles, drops a kiss to her forehead before letting her go.

"Fair enough. I can drive *you*, though. I'll grab my keys and a jacket. Will you go up and ask Alexis if she wants to come?"

Right. Alexis.

"Yes, of course."

Castle's daughter was still on the phone with Ashley when the pizzas came in, and the writer allowed her to grab a slice and go back to her room, exceptionally. This is pretty big for him, because Castle cares about meals and family time and all those things that Kate has had no use for over the past twelve years.

Kate collides with the red-haired girl at the top of the stairs; Alexis is no longer holding her phone, and she looks like she was on her way to join them.

"Something wrong?" she asks, eyeing the coat that Beckett has thrown over her arm, the heels that are back on the detective's feet. There's a cleverly concealed hint of anxiety to the teenager's voice.

"No, not wrong. I got a call from Beth – she's at the airport."

"At the airport…?"

Alexis gives her a confused look.

"JFK," Kate explains. "Her flight just landed."

Excitement bubbles up in the girl's eyes, and Kate quickly smooths down the tiny flicker of jealousy in her belly. She's gone down that path before; her and Beth's relationships with Alexis are two very different things, two things that have no business being compared.

She knows better than this. It's only the exhaustion in her bones speaking.

"I'll grab a coat," Castle's daughter exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes. Sometimes it's easy to see her father in her. "We're picking her up, right?" She asks over her shoulder before disappearing back into her room.

"Yes, we are," Kate smiles despite herself. "Your father insists on driving us."

She moves slowly towards Alexis's door, leans into the frame, watching as the girl hunts for her scarf and her gloves. The teenager gives her a wary look.

"Dad driving? Don't you remember what happened last time?"

Beckett chuckles, only because she knows that Rick is out of earshot.

"He looks pretty set on it, Alexis. Besides, it's not like he's a bad driver."

"No," the girl agrees, closing the door and linking arms with Kate, steering her towards the stairs. "He's not. As long as another squirrel doesn't land on the hood in front of him."

* * *

><p>The dashboard clock says 9:26 when Castle pulls over in the Kiss and Fly parking – she half expects him to make a joke about the name, but he's too busy trying to see through the curtain of rain that surrounds them.<p>

It started to rain two minutes after they left, of course, and none of them thought to take an umbrella.

"Well," Alexis says, looking outside with an adorably scrunched face.

"Ready to run?" Kate asks back, bracing herself, her fingers curling around the door handle.

"I'll just wait here, in case someone asks me to move the car," Rick pipes in, grinning and looking entirely too satisfied.

Beckett narrows her eyes at him, lets go of the door so she can lean in, capture his lips. He jerks in surprise, and by the time he rises to the occasion, his tongue coming out to play, Kate is already backing away, her teeth grazing his lower lip as she does.

"Sure, Castle," she says, rather proud of his slack jaw, his shocked look. "You wait here."

And then she opens the door and steps out under the rain, Alexis's laughter wrapped around her.

The car is as close to the terminal doors as Castle could get, but that still leaves a good fifty meters for Kate and Alexis to cover, and even running doesn't keep the girls from getting thoroughly drenched.

The automatic doors slide open and they rush inside, laughing in between panted breaths. Kate runs a hand through her wet hair, watches as the teenager wrings the water out of her braid. Affection flares inside her, unexpected but not unwelcome; she grabs Alexis's shoulder, tugs the girl into her in a vain attempt to warm them both.

Castle's daughter shoots her a surprised glance, smiles, and hooks an arm around Kate's waist.

"So, where did Beth say she'd meet us?"

"She said she'd be at the bar," Kate answers, a shiver crawling up her spine. The rain was not only heavy – it was pretty damn cold as well.

Alexis tightens her hold on her, and warmth spreads into Kate, tingles in her fingertips. The two of them start making their way through the crowd; the airport is incredibly busy, and they have to dodge a fat guy and his even fatter suitcase, a mom with her five little children in tow.

"There's probably more than one bar, though," Alexis points out as Kate starts looking around, trying to locate her sister.

"You're right," the detective answers, reaching for her cell phone. "I should just call her."

After a couple rings, though, Kate is kindly invited to leave a message, and she hangs up, vaguely worried. But no, the airport is loud and packed – it's likely Beth just didn't hear her phone.

"Kate?" Alexis calls from a few feet away. "I found a directory of the shops and restaurants."

The number of bars is in fact more modest than Kate would have expected: only four, and two of them are quite close to where they're standing right now. They head for the first one, Sam Adams Beer Cart; Beckett's fingers are twitching nervously around her cell phone.

No reason to be anxious, though: the moment they step inside the well-lit, spacious bar, a distinctive laugh cascades from a table on their left, and Kate's eager eyes quickly find her sister.

Beth is sitting with a good-looking man – dark blond hair, in his late twenties, expensive suit – who seems absolutely taken with her. Of course.

The detective cannot help a smile. Alexis is beaming at her side; Kate nudges her forward just when Beth turns, sensing their presence. It doesn't take more than that to send Castle's daughter running into the other woman's arms; their words are unintelligible to anyone but them, drowned under happy exclamations and joyful peals of laughter.

Beckett watches with a strange sense of peace, until her sister extends a hand towards her, invites her to join with those green, lively eyes of hers. She lets herself be sucked into a group hug, swamped with bright energy and tender touch, until she can hardly breathe.

"Katie, I'm so glad to see you," Beth is saying against her ear, and Kate is reminded again of how different they are, how her sister always voices the things that *she* would leave unsaid.

It takes her a few seconds to adjust.

"It's good to see you too, Beth," she answers when her voice is steady enough, won't crack.

Past her sister's shoulder, the blond man has averted his eyes, as if reluctant to intrude on their private moment. Kate disentangles herself from Beth, gives a light nod towards the guy.

"Oh," the young woman laughs, not even bothering to look embarrassed. "Sorry. Ted, this is my sister, Kate, and her… boyfriend's daughter, Alexis."

Kate shakes the man's hand, grateful that Beth remembered not to use Alexis's full name. And grateful that she refrained from using the playful 'StepCastle' nickname that Kate has heard rather frequently over the phone this past year.

"Well, we should get going, I guess," Beth says gaily, grabbing her purse and pulling out her suitcase's handle. "Ted, it was nice meeting you."

"You too," he replies hastily, his hand going to his coat pocket. Kate tenses out of habit, but she quickly realizes her mistake when he hands Beth a white rectangle of paper.

"Uh, here's my card, and my phone number, if you ever want to grab coffee or something, while you're in town."

The young woman takes it, flashes Ted a charming smile. "Thank you."

And then she's dragging Kate and Alexis outside, firing questions at Castle's daughter with her usual liveliness. But now that Beckett has gotten past the first shock, that first thrill of pleasure at seeing Beth again, she notices that her sister's laughter sounds a little forced at times, the shrill notes unusual. Unnatural.

She might chalk it up to the jetlag, and how tired Beth's got to be after a twenty-hour trip. Except – except she catches that smooth, discreet move of her sister's hand, crumpling the business card and throwing it into a trash can as they walk out of the terminal.

Kate observes a careful silence, but it doesn't keep her from speculating, forming an impression of her sister based on years of reading body language as a detective.

Something's wrong with Beth.


	2. Chapter 2

Castle's phone rings the moment Kate and Alexis shut the car door and dash for the terminal. He watches his girls get inside, then answers his cell, rain beating on the roof.

"Castle."

"Uh. This is Marie from Black Pawn? I'm Gina's assistant."

"Oh, yes, Marie. I remember you. Your grandmother was in the hospital the last time we talked. How is she?"

On the other end, Marie stumbles through a reply, sounding flustered. "Oh, yeah, um, thanks; she's fine now, Mr. Castle. I'm sorry for calling you tonight."

"No worries, Marie. What's up?" He taps his fingers on the steering wheel and watches the rain slick down the windshield.

"A few months ago, those notes you sent us on Alex Conrad's manuscript?"

"Yeah, the book was good. It really was."

"Yeah, good. I'm glad you say that. Because, well, Conrad is coming into the city for a book signing and he wanted to meet with you. If that's okay."

Castle grins in the darkness and checks his watch. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Where exactly-"

"Among other things, I think he wants to hang out with you at the police station?"

Oh. "Yeah. Sure. Okay. I think I can swing that. Set something up between us for lunch. . .uh, sometime Saturday - tomorrow?"

"I can do that."

"Let me know the details, send me his contact info, and I'm there." Now. . .how to make this fly with Kate?

"Excellent. Thank you so much, Mr. Castle."

"Hey, it's no problem." Mostly. He'll have to see about getting Conrad into the precinct. Might be. . .tricky.

"I'll email you when it's settled. Also, Alex wanted me to pass on his gratitude. And we've messengered over the advanced copy of his book. He. . .he was really adamant that you get it."

"Awesome. Thanks, Marie."

"Okay, well, talk to you later, Mr. Castle."

"Good night."

Castle ends the call and taps the phone against his cheek, staring out the window. He's been sort of mentoring Alex Conrad for the last six months or so, sending him notes on the plots points and the police procedures. In fact, Castle sent Black Pawn the manuscript, certain the publishing company could get the book out.

He's kind of proud of himself for this one. He's never had a mentee before. It's nice to take a kid under your wing, show him the tricks of the trade. Castle is looking forward to finally meeting the guy, face to face.

* * *

><p>The moment Castle sees Alexis's red, wet hair in the distance, he jumps out of the car and hurries forward to grab Beth's suitcases. Two in fact. He's surprised, but he shouldn't be, right? Of *course* Beth has two suitcases. Oh. And a carryon. She's a Beckett.<p>

Usually, he might have let them get it on their own (Kate's big about independence), but the weariness that's haunted her all day has him hustling to get her back home. Or well, to his loft, where she'll stay for the weekend anyway.

He pops the trunk and tells the girls to climb into the car. He notices the faint unease on Kate's face and wonders about it, but everyone's getting inside and turning the heater up, shivering.

Castle shoves everything into the trunk and slams it closed, then hustles into the driver's seat. "Hey Beth. How was your flight?"

"Lo-ong," she moans, rolling her eyes in the Beckett fashion. "I am so glad to be back in the States."

"We heading back to the loft?" he asks Kate, glancing over at her. She nods. "That okay with you, Beth?"

"Yeah, yeah, great. So long as you don't mind me crashing at your place tonight."

"Of course. You can stay as long as you like." He looks over at Kate again, and she bites her lip, then sighs.

"Actually. . .Beth. . .uh, you mind staying the weekend at the Castles'?"

Beth laughs and high-fives Alexis. "Of course, I don't mind. So long as *you* plan on staying all weekend."

Castle pulls out into traffic and merges with the cars headed towards the interstate. He takes Kate's hand and squeezes it, grinning a little.

Kate shakes his hand off to push her hair back from her face, then turns to look at Beth sitting next to Alexis. "Yes. All weekend. So?"

"So? Nothing, nothing," Beth laughs, holding up her hands. But when Castle glances in the rearview mirror, her eyes don't hold the laugh. "I'm happy for you. Although, I'm gonna have to quote Mom and say, 'Told you so.'"

Kate shakes her head on a grin and scrapes her hair back again, pushing it over her shoulder. Castle takes a moment to watch the shadows of raindrops coasting down the glass playing over Kate's face, then focuses on the traffic again.

"So, Beth. How was Mbarara?"

"Oh, God, it's. . .amazing. Seriously."

Even though she says that, her voice has a tremor of tension in it that Castle notices only because it's the same tension Kate gets in her voice when something is bothering her.

"What did you do there?"

"Everything. I was working through Oxfam to do what they call village building. We dig a well, teach people good hygiene, like washing your hands, and then a lot of agricultural stuff, and small business models, some basic starter kit ideas."

"Did *you* have to teach people all that?" Alexis asks. "I mean, I don't know anything about farming. Let alone small business models."

"Uh, well, actually, I was the one in charge of the women's classes. So I talked about how to use tampons, how to use birth control-"

"Okay, okay, ew," Castle whines, holding up a hand. "Let's skip that part until I'm not a captive audience, okay?"

Beth and Alexis both laugh at that; Kate chuckles and shoots him a raised eyebrow. But again, Castle can distinctly hear the notes of weariness in both Beckett sisters. Kate because their day at the precinct was non-stop, but Beth's origins, he thinks, are more than just a long flight.

"So what are your plans now, Beth?" Kate asks softly, still twisted in her seat to see her sister. Castle drops his hand on her knee, rubs her kneecap before putting both hands back on the wheel.

"I don't know. No plans. You know me."

But Beth doesn't sound like her usual carefree self when she says it; she sounds like a woman who, in fact, did have a plan. And now the plan is broken to pieces.

* * *

><p>Alexis loves sitting in the back of the car with Beth. It gives her a strange sense of balance that she doesn't always have with Kate and her dad sitting in the front.<p>

She's glad that Kate is at the loft so often, loves the happy look that dances all the time in her father's eyes, of course; but sometimes it's impossible not to feel like the third wheel. She doesn't actually mind, but with Beth here, the dynamics change. Like they're – complete.

Having Kate around is amazing. Not even because it's nice having a woman to ask the embarrassing questions, or go shopping with – although those things are a part of it – but simply because Kate Beckett (Alexis fully agrees with her father here) is extraordinary.

But having Kate *and* Beth? It feels like a godsend, the most unexpected of presents; it's more than Alexis would have dared hope for.

She feels a little giddy with gratitude, lets her body sway as her father turns right onto the Van Wyck Expy, her head briefly coming to rest against the window.

"So…"

Alexis's eyes fly to Beth, who is leaning back against the headrest, a sly smile on her lips.

"How is *Ashley*?" The young woman asks with delectation.

The teenager feels her cheeks heat up; she mentally blesses the dimness of the car.

"Uh, good," she says, glancing at her dad and seeing him roll his eyes in the rearview mirror. He's taken to do that a lot – Kate's influence, no doubt.

"I'm guessing everyone's commented already on Ashley being a girl's name?" Beth asks perfunctorily, her eyes laughing in the dark.

"It's the only girly thing about him," Alexis replies without thinking, always a little defensive of her boyfriend.

"Ew," Castle intervenes, adamant. "I don't even want to know what that statement hinted at. Dad within earshot," he emphasizes, his eyes focused on the road.

Kate half-turns to give Alexis a pointed look, eyebrows raised.

The girl shrugs a little, gives Beth a little smile. "It's only the truth," she whispers.

"Ew ew ew! I *heard* that!" Castle whines. "Kate, cover my ears."

Kate gives him one of those looks; Alexis cannot help a chuckle. Beth is still looking at the teenager, interest shining on her face.

"Well, well, Alexis Castle. I think you and I need to have a little conversation, away from young and sensitive ears."

Her dad groans in despair, and Kate tries to glare at her sister over her shoulder, gives up.

"Beth," she says, the warning obvious in her calm voice.

The young woman laughs, sounding more relaxed than she has so far, her head rolling back into the seat.

"Relax, I won't pervert your precious stepdaughter, I swear."

There's a beat of silence, as the word ripples and vanishes without anyone commenting on it. If Kate doesn't say anything, then Alexis is certainly not going to.

She looks at Beth again, finds that Kate's sister has closed her eyes.

Impulsively, the teenager snags Beth's hand, squeezes it. The smooth, long fingers squeeze back, and a slow smile stretches the woman's lips.

"It's good to be home," she murmurs, her voice warm and sleepy.

Home. The word glows in the dark, shimmers in front of Alexis, bathes her in light. Because the way Beth said it… Castle's daughter feels included, feels part of it, and she wouldn't trade that sensation for anything in the world.

* * *

><p>Even though the girls chat in the back seat (and when did she start lumping her single, not that much younger sister in with Alexis Castle?), Kate Beckett isn't participating in much of the conversation.<p>

Her momentary surge of energy upon seeing her sister and then running back to the car has melted away again. This was a long, hard day and she wants to curl up in Castle's king-sized bed and let the rain lull her to sleep. Maybe even let Castle himself do a little lulling. . .or at least thoroughly exhaust her before bed.

Hmm, is she even up for that?

Sure. Yeah, when isn't she up for that?

She smiles in the darkness and wishes her eagle-eyed sister wasn't waiting for some sign in the backseat. Otherwise, she might slip her hand over the gearshift and trace her fingers across his thigh. As it is, with the rain pouring down in sheets and the limited visibility, it's probably not the best idea.

Castle must have ESP or something because his face turns to her with a hot look, his fingers twitch on the wheel. She bites the corner of her mouth to keep from laughing, some of the previous lethargy spilling out of her, making room for lust.

When they park in his garage, Castle carries everything while Beth and Alexis whisper ahead of them. Kate suddenly feels very much like the step-parent, the family coming home after picking up the itinerant member. She keeps clear of the suitcase as Castle rolls it forward into the lift, then gets pressed against the side of the elevator when he pulls in the next one.

Beth catches her eye and smiles that calculating smile, but for once, Kate really doesn't care just how much Beth sees. It's almost nice, Castle's body holding hers up, and she leans her cheek against the cool wool of his coat, letting it scratch at her skin, slipping her arm through his, brushing her fingers around his wrist. He lets go of the suitcase to capture her hand, squeeze it.

In the crowded elevator, no one can see her other hand move, brush against him, and Castle does a manful job of keeping very, very still. She hides her grin into his back and snakes her fingers in the spot she's made, his bare skin against her cold hand.

He takes a long breath out, and Alexis gives him a funny look, but turns back to Beth, asking for details about the little kids Kate's sister had to baby-sit while the mothers were in business school.

Kate uses her nails against his lower back, then drops her hand as they reach their floor. The doors slide open and Castle stands still, gesturing for everyone to get off first, keeping Kate pinned as well. She is smiling, unable to hide it when he turns and gives her another burning look, steals a fast, dirty kiss from her mouth.

She's left alone on the elevator when she opens her eyes again. Strides off to catch up with them.

* * *

><p>Castle takes Beth's stuff up the stairs and leaves it in the guest room, the same room she used when he first met her a year ago. She looks different, a little older maybe, a little less like Kate than he remembers. As he's walking out of the room, the girls come upstairs, Beth grinning widely at something that has Alexis blushing and Kate frowning. He generally approves of those kinds of statements, whatever they were.<p>

"All right. You girls - ah, women, ladies - can all have a slumber party up here. We've got the rest of the pizza downstairs that I'm gonna heat back up, and then I'll be in the study writing."

Kate's stomach growls, and Beth laughs. "Well, looks like Kate is heading downstairs with you."

Alexis looks hesitant. "I'm kind of still hungry too. I only ate a couple of pieces and if we're going stay up all night, I'll need fuel."

"All right, Beth, you're coming downstairs too. You know that pizza is calling your name," Castle teases her, heading for the stairs.

"Sure. Fine. Let me just change out of these clothes first."

Kate's hand drops on his shoulder as they parade back downstairs; he reaches back and captures it, tilting his head to give her fingers a kiss. At the bottom of the stairs, he waits for the girls to pass him, then holds Kate back, so he can wrap his arms around her from behind and nuzzle the side of her neck.

She breathes in slowly; he nips at her ear and she lets out a shaky, laughing breath. "Hey, Kate?"

"Umm, yeah?"

He grins into her hair. "Does Beth seem. . .off to you?" he whispers.

Her hands settle on top of his, her fingers stroking his in an erotic movement that has him tugging her back against his hips. Despite his best intentions.

"Yeah, a little," she says softly, then her stomach growls again and she pulls his arms apart and steps away from him. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugs and follows her into the kitchen, keeping his voice low so Alexis doesn't overhear. "Just. . .her avoidance technique is a lot like yours." He grins at her and wags his eyebrows to keep her irritation level down. She shoots him a look, but it's not annoyed.

"Yeah."

"Little things. Just. . .seemed off."

Kate nods and sets the oven as he pulls the pizza boxes from the fridge. He opens the oven door and slides them in, checking the time as he does. "Maybe ten minutes?"

She laughs lightly and leans against the counter. "You're asking me because you think I've got lots of practice reheating pizza, right?"

He grins back.

"Well, you're wrong. When I reheat pizza, it's one slice at a time in the microwave." She purses her lips at him, almost smiling, then wrinkles her nose - _jeez, that's adorable; never seen that before - _and pushes off the counter to move around the kitchen island and sit in a stool.

Alexis wanders in from the living room. "I put all my school stuff back in my room, but Dad?"

"Yup."

"I'm supposed to go to Debate practice tomorrow morning but. . .can I stay up with Beth tonight and skip it instead?"

His first response, his gut instinct, is to celebrate the fact that his daughter wants to cut a school activity just like any normal, red-blooded teenager. However, the flicker across Kate's face makes him hesitate. Kate's not parenting his kid, no; but she might have reservations about allowing Beth to be the reason Alexis is skipping a school event.

Oh, hell with it. He's always said family is what's most important. "Yeah, I think that's acceptable."

Kate's eyes cut to his but he shrugs at her and lifts his eyebrows, daring her to make something of it.

Kate opens her mouth and turns her head to Alexis, but even Kate must see how much Alexis wants this. She shuts her mouth and sighs instead, leaning her chin on her hand and closing her eyes.

Speaking of being a little bit off. Kate's been bone tired all day. He needs to get her in bed.

"You staying up with them?" he asks, leaning against the counter and coming in close. When Kate opens her eyes to answer, his face isn't that far away.

She grins at him, lifting her chin from her hand and pushing on his forehead with a finger. "No. I'm exhausted. As you know."

"Ew," Alexis says, wrinkling her nose. So *that's* where Kate's gotten it from. Interesting.

"No _ew_ involved in that one," Kate says back, bumping her shoulder into Alexis's. "Just a long day." And then she turns her eyes to his and lifts an eyebrow as if to ask, _But later. . .?_

He grins in response and nods, then turns back to check on the pizza. He can already smell it wafting up from the oven. He hears Beth clomping down the stairs, and Alexis jumping up to greet her with a little squealing happy sound. He turns back around and catches Kate studying them, wonders what she's thinking.

He opens the pizza box on top and it looks like the cheese is melting again, so he quickly grabs it out, almost burning his fingers. Alexis comes behind him and grabs plates, handing them out; a line forms up at the oven, so he moves to the side to let them go first.

Beth is pushing Kate in front and she rolls her eyes, but her stomach growls again, really loudly this time, and everyone laughs. Even Kate.

Castle gets his pizza last, then sits beside Kate at the bar while Alexis and Beth take theirs back upstairs. When the girls are both gone, Castle leans over and kisses Kate's temple, even as she chews her pizza slowly. He can feel the muscles in her jaw working under his lips, faintly erotic and surprising.

"Okay, now my second question," he says, leaning away from her to study her profile. "Are *you* okay?"

She shrugs and swallows her bite. "I feel pretty rundown actually. But the food is helping. I'm not sure when I ate last. I mean, before pizza tonight."

"You stopped at one for animal crackers from the vending machines," he says helpfully. "And um. . .oh, I went out for lunch because I had that meeting with my editor. Did you eat lunch?"

She grins at him. "I might have had my first bag of animal crackers then?"

He puts his pizza down and braces himself for the next question. "And. Bearing in mind that I live with two women - my mother and my daughter - this next question comes from a good place and-"

"Get on with it, Castle."

"Is it. . .maybe. . .just that time of the month?" He squints one eye and ducks, waiting for it.

She snorts. "Really? You just asked me that?"

"Uh. Yes?" He glances over at her, unsquinting his eye.

She bites her lip and gives him a look from the side of her face, then sighs. "Could be." He watches her think back. "Yeah, close enough. Shit."

"See? Not so hard. . ." he says, breathing out a sigh of relief. He still owns all his limbs.

She buries her head in her hands. "I can't believe you just asked me that. A little less than romantic, Castle."

He laughs at her. "Aw, Kate. Are you embarrassed? Cause you know, I had to talk to my daughter about this stuff twice. The first time was a false alarm. I didn't know you could have those, but-"

"Castle," she huffs, elbowing him. "Shut up already."

"It's natural, Kate."

"Yeah, but it kinda freaks me out that you've been paying such close attention."

"When am I *not* paying attention?" he says, leaning in close to her, raising an eyebrow at her.

She goes pale. "Shit. Castle. How. . .how long have you been paying *this* close attention?"

"Uh, you know. For awhile." He pokes her side to distract her, and she hunches over, dropping her pizza.

"Don't poke me. At least not there."

Castle laughs so hard that he nearly chokes on his own pizza, covering his face with a hand as he tries to get control of his mirth.

She glances at him warily, because she knows him too well, doesn't she? And then he laughs harder when she gets it, how that sounded, and her face flushes a pretty pink that even paints the tips of her ears.

"Well," she says, lifting her chin. "I mean that too. So there."

He grins around his pizza and swallows it nearly whole. "Not too tired?"

She shakes her head slowly, her eyes going liquid and dark. "Never."

"I bet I can make you too tired."

"Try me," she says.

He drops his pizza and stands, but she's already laughing and pushing on his chest. "Let me eat first, Castle!"

He grumbles. "I suppose. . .if you *have* to."

* * *

><p>As much as the pizza helped earlier, now it's just making Kate drowsy. And vaguely nauseous. She puts her second slice back in the box, wonders what the hell is wrong with her.<p>

Castle is probably right. Sure. What else could it be?

She's been running on too little sleep for too long. And Ryan came in with some kind of virus last week that's been making the rounds – every day since there's been someone out. She might be getting sick.

Ugh. Kate winces at the idea. She hates being sick, not being at the top of her game. Physical weakness is something she abhors, something she has trouble dealing with. It's always been like this.

Even when she was a teenager, her mother had to *make* her stay at home when she had a fever; otherwise Kate would just have gone to class, acted normal, refused to let her body take over her life.

"What's wrong with that pizza?" Castle asks, rousing her. He's examining the slice she's put aside, as if looking for germs; a smile gets away from her without waiting for approval.

"Nothing," she says, hitting his shoulder playfully. "I'm just not hungry anymore."

Rick arches an eyebrow at her; she shrugs, slides off the stool, deliberately stumbles into him. She wants to wipe that look of concern off his face.

"Or maybe I'm just hungry for something other than pizza," she whispers in his ear, her hand wandering to his side, slipping under his shirt.

He shivers; Kate lets out a dark, throaty little laugh, brushes her nose against his neck, licks at his skin.

"Mmm, Kate."

He grabs her other hand, the one that was still resting on the countertop, and brings it to his lips. He kisses her palm, gentle, soft, and now Kate is the one shuddering, her abs tensing in that delightful way.

Castle kisses each finger with the same attention, the same care, his lips so tender and almost reluctant to move away, his tongue sometimes smoothing the skin before he does.

Warm, wet tongue.

Kate's breath hitches, her oxygen blocked somewhere on the way out, her lungs useless.

Her eyes are suspiciously warm, too; she can't believe she's about to cry because Rick Castle is kissing her hand. But it's not that, of course; it's the way he devotes himself to his task, the way he treats any part of her body like a precious gem.

Like she's a treasure to protect and cherish. *His* treasure.

Still. She blinks the stupid tears back, leans forward and presses her mouth to his neck, hot, wanting.

And then – she's not sure how it happens – it's his mouth against her mouth, his chest she's pressed into, hard and uncompromising, his arms, steel-like around her.

"Bed, Castle," she gasps when he abandons her lips to ravish her neck, lick his way down her collarbone.

He hums his agreement, which in turn has her arching into him (she's completely lost her control over her hips' movements); that makes him laugh, and she cannot help a whimper, because really, _really_, Richard Castle laughing against her skin is the hottest thing *ever*.

And the bastard knows it.

She curls her fingers in his hair, tight enough to yank his face away from her. He makes a pained little sound, then meets her eyes and goes still, a deer caught in the headlights.

An aroused deer.

Desire is everywhere on his face; the darkened blue of his eyes, the parted line of his lips, the intense set of his eyebrows. It makes Kate's heart throb, the heavy pound of it against her ribcage almost painful.

"I said bed, Castle," she whispers, and she doesn't recognize her own voice.

It doesn't really matter; Rick obeys anyway, sweeps her into his arms and strides to his bedroom, his step confident – the erratic murmur of his breath a dark, promising song to her ear.


	3. Chapter 3

Alexis has changed into pajamas, her favorite ones – soft blue cotton bottoms and matching top. They're old, and definitely not something she'd let her friends see her with (let alone Ashley), but Beth is okay. Beth is family.

She feels a little heavy with pizza now, but Celeste's is always so good. It's hard to know when to stop. She rests a hand against the little bump of her stomach, attempts to massage the food down.

Walking back into the guest room, she sees the lights are on in the bathroom. She finds Beth in there, washing her face, the long locks of her chestnut hair cascading down her back. The sun has left lighter streaks in there; Alexis can see those even in the dim light.

"Your hair is so long," she observes, surprised.

It looks like Beth hasn't cut it since the last time she was here, like a year ago. It's a good four inches longer.

The young woman was bending over the sink; she jerks upright at Alexis's words, a look like guilt washing over her face. Guilt?

"I didn't mean to scare you," the teenager says, because even though she's pretty sure it wasn't being startled that happened there, she doesn't know what that was.

It seems like it's the right thing to say: Beth's shoulders relax, and she smiles at Alexis in the mirror.

"It's fine."

She is wearing an oversized green T-shirt with flamingoes on it, and black shorts, and somehow still manages to look fashionable. Alexis feels a faint twinge of jealousy, but amusement soon drowns it.

"Do you want to braid it for me?" Beth asks, a smile dancing at the corner of her lips.

"What?"

"I usually braid my hair for the night," she explains, reaching for the brush. "Keeps it from getting too tangled. You're right; it's gotten way too long. I need to get it cut."

"I kind of love it like this," Alexis objects, running a light hand over Beth's curls. "It's beautiful."

When she looks up at her friend, there's something hard glittering in her green eyes, something more Kate than Beth.

And then, a handful of seconds later, it's gone. Beth is smiling again, and she turns off the bathroom lights, leads Castle's daughter to the bed.

"I feel great braiding abilities in you, young Padawan," she declares, offering the hairbrush to Alexis like it's a torch or, well, a lightsaber. The girl chuckles, takes it, and sits on the bed right next to Beth.

She feels a little intimidated. And gleeful. The only hair she's ever braided was her Barbies'. Whenever her friends in third or fourth grade decided on playing hairdresser, Alexis was automatically chosen as customer, because of her long, straight hair that was so easy to handle.

She takes a deep breath, lifts her hands to part Beth's hair into three strands. Are her fingers trembling? She's being ridiculous.

Thank god, Beth speaks again, distracts her.

"So, your father and my sister. How is *that* going?"

The familiar topic brings a grin back onto Alexis's lips.

"Good, I think. They look. . .happy. You know. My dad is much better now than he was after Gina, when he was just – partying all the time. Now, he's. . ." She stops, tries to find the right words as her fingers work the chestnut curls deftly. "It's like he's dropping the mask more often. He's always my dad now. Not this – playboy author persona that I sometimes got to see on TV. And didn't really like."

Kate's sister hums in satisfaction, the sound as soft as the lights that bathe the room.

"And Kate's amazing, of course. She laughs more, maybe? When she's with Dad. She's less…reserved."

The braid is done; Alexis looks around for a rubber band, doesn't see one.

"Uh, Beth? Do you have something to tie your hair with?"

"Oh, no. It's fine, you can just leave it this way. With the curls, it usually stays together."

"Really?"

Wow. Alexis's hair would *never* stay in a braid without a rubber band. The girl smooths the ends of Beth's hair with her hand, unwilling to let go. It doesn't seem possible it will hold.

"Yup. One of the perks of curls, I guess. There are lots of drawbacks, trust me."

Beth turns and winks at her, and lets herself fall back on the bed, sinking into the bedcovers.

"Oh, you Castles have such incredible beds. I'm so jealous."

"Well, you could always stay here forever," Alexis points out teasingly, lying down as well but settling on her side so that she gets a view of her friend's face.

She doesn't miss the shadow that crosses Beth's eyes, even though it disappears quickly enough. The young woman doesn't make any sort of reply. None of those good-humored refusals from before.

Is Beth actually considering staying in New York?

Alexis distances herself from the thought as soon as her brain has worded it, unwilling to let herself believe, let herself hope. It's not in the woman's nature to stay in the same place for long, and the teenager is fine with that. Isn't she?

Beth's hand brushes against Alexis's, bringing the girl back to the moment. A soft smile illuminates her face as she asks, "Wanna talk about Ashley?"

Alexis burrows into the covers, closer to Kate's sister, her heart pounding with excitement. Beth is exactly the right person to talk to about these things. Despite her best efforts, Alexis is still hesitant to share this sort of stuff with Kate, and her friends at school, whether it's Paige or Julie, are always so…quick to judge.

They're fun, of course, but Alexis doesn't trust many people with her deepest secrets.

"You'd like him, I think," she says, an irrepressible smile blossoming on her lips. "He's really nice. He's smart, and very attentive, and he… He has this way of looking at me? It makes my throat go dry," she laughs, a little breathless at the memory.

"That sounds good," Beth murmurs encouragingly.

"Yeah. I – I really like him. Love him."

She still feels like a thief every time she makes that admission, even to her boyfriend. Like it took her by surprise, and she's not really sure she's allowed to say it. To feel it.

"And have you…" Beth trails her voice suggestively, arches an eyebrow. "You know?"

Alexis's cheeks are burning, but she doesn't avert her gaze. This is why she loves Kate's sister: she's comfortable with these things, and this in turn makes Alexis comfortable herself, or as close as she can get anyway.

"No. No, we haven't. I mean, sometimes, when we kiss, I… I feel like I want to? But I'm still…nervous about it. And I figure, the day when I want it so bad that I don't even feel scared anymore – I guess that will be the right time?"

She looks at Beth for confirmation; her breath catches in her throat at the tenderness pouring from the woman's eyes. Beth brings her hand to Alexis's cheek, brushing her thumb against the girl's cheekbone.

"You're so smart, Alexis. I'm not worried about you. But you're right. You should take your time. Make sure you know who you're dealing with."

Her voice breaks a little, her eyes shimmer in the half-light, and Castle's daughter feels her heart squeeze painfully.

"Beth? Are you all right?"

Alexis inches closer, her body responding to the waves of distress rolling off Beth.

"I'm fine," the young woman murmurs, her lips pursed, her brow furrowed like she's holding it all together. So it's a Beckett thing then.

"You don't have to talk about it," the redhead answers gently, reaching for Beth. Her hand stays suspended in the air, unsure where to land, uncertain if this is the right thing to do. But in the end she let her fingers curl around Beth's forearm, light but supportive all the same.

She feels the great tremble that shakes her friend's body, the sob building in there, contained only by the force of Beth's will. So like her sister: it's amazing.

"I'm fine," Beth says again, but her control is slipping away, fat tears trimming her green eyes.

Alexis stops hesitating: she moves forward, wraps an arm around the thin shoulders, pulls Beth into her. And when she hears her helpless gasp, hears the dam breaking, all she can do is hold her friend tighter as Beth shakes against her in the large guest bed, and press her cheek to the sleek chestnut hair.

Like her father's always done with her.

* * *

><p>Castle wakes at eight to a text message vibrating the phone next to the bed. He's instantly aware, his brain alert, his hand reaching over to pick up his phone, keep it from waking Kate.<p>

He glances over at her first, curled up on her side, knees drawn up to her chest, hair spilling over the pillow in a nimbus around her head. Deep asleep. They went to bed early, for them, and Kate is usually up by now, so it pings on his radar a little, this sleeping in.

He checks his text. From Marie:

_Conrad at 10 for brunch at Crepe Suzettes. Confirm?_

He texts her back positively and pushes his phone under his pillow, just in case she texts him back. He slides closer to Kate and peers at her; lines around her mouth, shadows bruising the delicate skin under her eyes. Her lashes are fine and fragile looking without makeup; it always surprises him how young she looks without it. Even when she works out, she's got eyeliner and mascara on. Just those two things make a world of difference.

She's maybe more beautiful like this, unreserved and natural and easy around him. And maybe more smoking hot with the makeup on. He grins and curls his hand in the space between them, content to doze beside her for another few minutes.

This is unheard of, really. Eight hours of sleep for Beckett? Crazy. She's been up at four the last three days in a row, though. . .and then they've gotten home late as well. Of course, he's not supposed to know she's been getting up at four. But he did his own timeline work, and managed to worm information out of her piece by piece.

She goes on a run most mornings, if she doesn't have sparring practice or kickboxing. Her runs last two hours. She told him yesterday that kickboxing was canceled this week and that she hadn't been able to line up any time with the NYPD trainer. Her sparring partner freely admitted that they'd had two sessions - one on Monday and another on Wednesday.

So if she was running Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, and if she was also at work those days at 6:30 (Esposito and Ryan can be incredibly helpful with the Beckett Timeline), then it stands to reason she woke at four a.m. to run those two hours. And he's being generous. Monday night, he knows they talked on the phone until midnight. So that's four hours sleep.

He can do the math all he likes, what it comes down to is one thing - Kate Beckett doesn't get much sleep. She doesn't always need much sleep, true. But since she started staying with him on the weekends, he's not seen her do much catch-up. Sometimes on Sundays. They spend a lot of their weekends catching up on each other. Physically. Not on sleep.

Rick grins and a vision of her face swims before him, those eyes wide and startled above him, the arch of her pale throat, the way her knees clamp around him-

The bed jerks, his eyes fly open. Kate is stumbling towards the bathroom.

He rolls onto his side and spreads his fingers over the warm side of her bed, closes his eyes a moment.

Time to get up.

* * *

><p>In the shower, Kate spends ten minutes bent over on her knees, trying really hard not to vomit down the drain. That would be bad. Castle would hear that.<p>

When she woke, she woke thinking she was going to throw up, and when she crawled back into bed, he got up and took a shower, inviting her in. She actually said no. Which felt terrible. He looked disappointed. But even then she thought the pizza was rolling in her stomach.

When he finished his shower, she avoided him by getting in the shower herself, but she should have just stayed in bed, feigned sleep.

He's just beyond the shower door now, getting dressed for his brunch with this new guy. An author he's been trying to help along. She remembers him reading parts of the manuscript aloud to her in bed a couple weekends ago, remembers mostly trying to distract him with her hands, her mouth, her body.

Funnily enough, her stomach quiets when she thinks about that. She blinks through the water streaming over her forehead, running down her eyebrows, her nose, brushes a shaky hand over her face, feeling both cold and hot at the same time. Her skin is like ice, but her insides are sending surges of heat through her body.

Whew. Not good. Whatever this is. Stomach flu?

Kate stands up slowly, holding on to the wall, tilts her head under the hot water. It helps, soothes her worn out muscles. She feels like she's been tense all night, despite the nearly ten hours of sleep she's gotten.

It's got to be more than just that time of the month. Right? She missed last month because she tacked on more miles to her workout, running twelve instead of eight, and then the stress of the open Jarvis case those last two weeks. It always hits her harder the next month after her body skips a cycle, but she can't remember ever having nausea like this.

A little trickle of dread pools in her belly. She presses her hand to her flat, queasy stomach and closes her eyes.

No. Really, no. Not a good time to give in to an overactive imagination.

It's a bad month is all. Last month's miss was normal; it happens to her probably once or twice a year. Changing the workout routine always does it.

But she can't help thinking back to the month before. Did she have her cycle *then*?

Her panic blossoms, the dread rising in her throat. Her hands are sweating, her feet numb.

Really not a good time for this.

It's not-

It can't-

No.

Don't even think it. Don't make it true. Just.

She needs to figure this out first. Check her facts, go back and establish the timeline, get some damn forensic evidence. She'll go get a test at Walgreens while Castle is at his brunch with the guy. Conrad. She'll take it there. Not at home-

She means, not at his loft.

Yeah. It's fine.

She's fine.

(Oh damn, what is she going to do?)

* * *

><p>Her face when he left still bothers him, but she just shook her head at him, kissed him thoroughly, and said she was tired. She looked tired. Kate never looks tired unless she's been defeated. And she had more than eight hours' sleep. Doesn't seem right.<p>

Maybe she's just really tired.

But now he's sitting at Crepe Suzettes and giving Alex Conrad a hearty handshake as they both size each other up.

"It's an honor to finally meet you," Conrad says.

He grins and pulls out the book that was delivered sometime this morning, his focus returning to the man before him. "Looks good in print, doesn't it?"

Alex grins back and nods once. "Yeah. It really does. I have you to thank for it."

"You wrote it. I just. . .passed it along."

"And edited the first ten pages for me. So that the publisher would even look at it."

Castle shrugs. "Like I said, once you get your foot in the door, you have to make a good impression. And the first ten pages are it."

"That's what did it, I'm sure." Alex studies the menu before him almost nervously. Castle likes him; of course he does. Alex Conrad sought him out for his advice and then wrote copious emails gushing with praise. What's not to like? Flattery will get you anywhere.

"And hey, this is on Black Pawn, so get whatever you like," Castle says, grinning at the younger man.

Alex lifts his head and grins, sharing a conspiratorial air. "In that case, I'm getting the one that's loaded."

Castle steeples his fingers together. "Excellent choice. In fact, that's the crepe I'm having. You can also ask them to put extra ingredients in it."

Conrad raises one eyebrow and glances back down at the menu. "What else is there to add? It's already got bacon, eggs, hash browns, french toast, maple syrup, ham, and sausage stuffed into a breakfast crepe."

"Oh, ye of little faith. I add. . .wait for it. . .chocolate. And marshmallows."

Conrad's face goes a little pale. "No."

"Hey, it's good," he defends. "I call it - Smore Crepe!"

Conrad groans. "I don't think I can do it." But then he sets his face and shakes his head. "No. Wait. I promised myself on this trip I was going to take everything this city has to offer. Follow your lead. I didn't exactly think it would lead here, but. . ."

Castle's delight spreads across his face. "You're following *my* lead? Why?"

"Because you obviously know how this is supposed to work-"

"Crepes? You couldn't be further from the truth. My creation is an abomination. They routinely sniff their noses at me. They're French you know."

Conrad gulps, but seems to gird his loins. Castle silently cheers him on.

"No. No, I'm doing the same things you do. I've got to. . .In fact, that kind of brings me to the point of us meeting."

"Yeah?"

"I want to. . .follow you around for a couple of days. If you don't mind. I mean. I need to learn a lot about mystery writing - Black Pawn made that perfectly clear - but also because there are tricks of the trade I can learn from you. How do you build your crime? What resources do you use to get all those really accurate details? I mean, it's obvious you know the city like the back of your hand, but the stuff about cops in the Heat books, the-"

"Hey, yeah, you *do* know that I cheat, right?"

Conrad's face goes still. "You what?"

Castle grins. "I do some following around of my own. A ride-along with the 12th precinct. Well, that's turned into a consult job basically. I get my very own detective."

Conrad blinks. "I. . .I heard something about that. The Nikki Heat character is based on her."

Castle can tell that Conrad has more than just heard of it. In fact, the kid looks like he's angling for an invitation. But who cares? Castle would've loved to have a writer to talk to when he was doing his first few novels, someone experienced who could show him the ropes.

So Conrad wants a peek at the 12th? Fine. Let him watch the master in action.

"Beckett. Her name's Kate Beckett. She hates to be called Nikki Heat."

Alex Conrad gulps and nods. "Yeah."

"So. Monday morning? Want to come meet everyone?"

"Are you serious?"

Castle just grins.

"Yes. Oh. . .wow, yes. I would love that."

The waiter wanders over to their table and interrupts the moment to ask for their orders. Castle lifts an eyebrow and Conrad inclines his head.

"We need two loaded crepes. With a couple of extra ingredients. Marshmallow creme and chocolate syrup." He meets Alex Conrad's eyes, sizes him up for a second. Alex Conrad looks like he could be in those huge Gucci ads in Times Square; he needs to have the man in him tested a little. "Also? Can you add banana slices to that?"

Conrad swallows hard and his face pales.

The waiter sighs at Castle but dutifully records the addition, then heads back to the kitchen.

Yeah. He is going to break in this kid one way or another.

* * *

><p>Kate is standing in the kitchen, trying to find something to eat that doesn't make her stomach convulse in repulsion. She's already ruled out cereal, bacon, omelette – she's considering pancakes and wrinkling her nose when she feels a presence at her back.<p>

Closing the door to the cabinet, she turns around; Alexis is leaning against the kitchen island, a hesitant look on her face.

She smiles at the girl and gets a half-hearted response.

"Hey, Alexis. How'd you sleep?"

"Um, okay, I guess. You?"

"Can't complain."

She's certainly not going to say, _I slept ten hours straight and I can't even remember the last time _that_ happened and how would you like a little brother or sister?_

Stop it right there, Kate Beckett. There's no proof. No reason to let your imagination run wild.

Alexis has drifted off again, her eyes thoughtful and trained on her hands, her teeth nibbling at her lower lip. Obviously, there's something going on here.

"Can I help with anything?" Kate asks as gently as she can, even though her own nerves are raw and she's yearning to go out, walk to the drugstore, buy a –

"Yeah. Yeah, I –" Castle's daughter takes a deep breath, tucks her hair behind her ears – something she does when she's nervous. She looks up at Beckett; it seems to soothe her a little.

"I think there…might be something wrong with Beth?"

Kate sucks in a breath, nausea forgotten.

"Last night, we were talking about stuff and, well, we were talking about love, to make it short. And she – she started crying? I tried to console her, as best as I could, but." The teenager's brow furrows as she fumbles for words. "It felt like she was hurting, Kate. Deep. But she didn't tell me anything, and we fell asleep, and this morning she's acting like – like everything's fine. Smiling and all. Like she's forgotten about it."

Ah. That sounds like Beth all right. Kate has to smother the flicker of guilt, because she could see something was off with her sister last night, but she was too tired to investigate, too eager for Castle's arms. Damn.

"And I don't know," Alexis goes on, "if I should be telling you this or leaving it alone, but I figured you're her sister, really, and maybe you can help somehow – "

Kate's hands land on Alexis's shoulders and squeeze gently, and that breaks the awkward flow of words. The clear blue eyes meet the detective's, shame and relief warring in them.

"Thank you for telling me," Kate says, and she means it. With herself, leaving things alone is usually the solution, because she needs to figure stuff out on her own (that damn independence); but with Beth it's the reverse. Beth needs to get stuff out before it starts eating at her. Whatever it is. "I'm gonna see what I can do."

Alexis's arms wrap loosely around her waist, and the girl rests her forehead against Beckett's shoulder for a moment. Kate, surprised, hugs back, a mélange of fear and delight dancing in her guts.

"I think she needs you," the redhead murmurs in a soft admission. There's a hint of resignation in there, as if Alexis was used to not being enough, not cutting it.

Revolt straightens Kate's spine. But she knows better than to protest outwardly; instead she curls her fingers around Alexis's back, rubs her thumb against her lower vertebras.

"Thank you for helping her, Alexis. That means a lot."

And it does. The idea of her little sister crying herself to sleep, alone in the shadows of the guest bedroom, is enough to make Kate's heart plummet; and in this second she's never been more grateful for the kind, loving nature of Alexis Castle.

"It was nothing," the girl breathes against her shoulder.

Kate pushes her back, cups Alexis's cheeks with her hands, firmly, and captures her eyes, just like Kate's own mother used to do when she wanted to make a point.

"It was *not* nothing. You're amazing, Alexis Castle. Beth is lucky to have you."

A tremulous smile forms on the teenager's lips, bright and blooming. "Thanks, Kate," she says quickly, stepping away and glancing at the stairs. "She's up there, getting dressed, if you want – I'll make coffee."

Kate gives a grateful look to the girl, ignores the churn of her stomach at the simple mention of coffee, and heads upstairs.

* * *

><p>When she pushes open the door to the guest bedroom, she collides with a Beth fresh out of the shower, her hair wrapped into a pink towel that gives her an exotic look, like she's a courtesan from a faraway country.<p>

"Katie, hi!"

Kate take a good look at her sister, sees through the bright smile and the good-humored humming, and leans nonchalantly against the door, making it impossible to escape.

"Hi."

Beth's eyes drift to the door, come back to Kate, and her eyebrows shoot up. She's good, but not good enough to keep the flash of panic completely off her face.

"Something wrong?"

"You tell me," Kate answers smoothly, giving her a pointed look. "I'm not the one who cried myself to sleep last night."

Beth sighs, purses her lips together as she drops her gaze.

"Alexis told you."

"Yes. She's worried about you. And so am I," Kate insists gently, stepping forward to lay a hand on her sister's arm.

Beth recoils, takes a few steps back, turning towards the window.

"I'm fine," she says, in that stubborn way of hers.

Beckett considers the situation, tries to think of the better approach. But the thing is, it's been too long, too long since the last time she had to pry information out of her sister, too long since Beth last attempted to keep a secret from her.

Beth is generally not one for secrets.

"Beth. Just. Just tell me what's wrong. You'll feel better afterwards, don't you think?"

The young woman turns around, throws Kate a dark look. "Don't you go all mom on me."

Ah. That hurts, more than it should. As much as Kate tries to repress the feeling, keep it from flaring in her eyes, she must fail because Beth looks ashamed, moves forward.

"Katie, I didn't mean – I'm sorry."

Beth chews on the inside of her cheek, distractedly unwinds the towel, letting her damp hair cascade down, frame her face.

She looks so young like this, the wet, heavy curls falling on her shoulders, with only a hint of make-up on. It tugs at Kate's heart.

The words are out of her mouth before she can think better of them.

"What happened in Uganda, Beth?"

Her sister lets out a shaky sigh, sits down on the bed.

"I just don't want…"

"Don't want what?" Kate needs to know; if she ever considered letting this go, that moment is long gone. She hates the anxiety in Beth's eyes, so contrary to her happy, light-hearted nature.

"I don't want you to think even worse of me."

That statement hits Kate hard, makes her breath catch like a punch to her guts.

"Beth."

Disbelief is making her head swim; does her sister really think…? No. No. Kate steps closer, drops to her knees in front of Beth.

"Please tell me you're not serious. Beth. I don't think badly of you. How could I? You're my sister."

The last word echoes in the room, too forceful, and Kate takes a deep breath, tries to control her emotions. She meets Beth's eyes, grabs her sister's hands without thinking about it.

"You can tell me anything. Anything."

A faint smile appears on her sister's face, more of a grimace really, too sad. It looks like Beth is gathering her courage.

"Okay," she sighs, averting her gaze. "Uh. Well, there was…this guy. In Mbarara." She laughs, but it's a forced, joyless sound. "It's always a guy, isn't it?"

Kate bites her lip, decides not to answer. She doesn't want to shatter this fragile balance that Beth seems to have achieved.

"His name's Jasper. Jasper Ford. He works part-time with the embassy, but he spends the rest of the week with us, working with Oxfam. He's. . ."

She pauses, takes back her hands, wipes them on her jeans, mechanically.

"He's very nice. Smart, and funny. We got along. He was always so attentive, so good – especially with the children. You could see, you know? You could see he's a good guy."

She laughs again; it breaks Kate's heart. The detective is vaguely surprised at the anger that flames inside her, licks at her ribs, powerful, this man she doesn't even know that somehow hurt her sister.

"I was attracted to him. I could see he was attracted to me too; you can always tell. But he never acted on it, not until – not until the Oxfam Christmas party. It's possible I had a little too much to drink," - she grins half-heartedly - "and I think he did too. Anyway, we. . .got together."

She looks up then, looks up at Kate, her eyes supplicating. Kate is not so sure she wants to know, after all.

"It was so good, Kate. I've never. . .I don't think I've ever felt something like this. He's amazing, was amazing. He was charming and interesting and so. . .in love. He told me I was the most incredible thing that had ever happened to him, that he'd never met anyone like me. And the way he looked at me. God."

Beth swallows, shakes her head. Her hand comes up to wipe the lonely tear that has made its way down her cheek.

"We were together for four months, and honestly, I. . .I would have married him. It was so fast, so intense. We were practically living together. And the way he talked about things, I thought – I thought he felt the same, I thought he was in this just like I was. All in."

Kate is feeling murderous. Her right hand is a fist, so tight that her fingernails are digging into her palm, but it feels good, a blessed diversion for the rage building inside.

"I didn't tell you much over the phone because I didn't want to jinx it. But he's the reason why I told you I was going to stay longer after the end of my contract. I. . ." Beth closes her mouth, her teeth digging into her lower lip. "Anyway. Four days ago, he told me he had to work late, and not to come over. But I had just gotten off with Oxfam, and I thought - I thought I could surprise him, show up with a bottle of wine, a few candles. I went to his building – I had a key – but when I got there, I saw him on the other side of the street. With a woman."

Oh, no. Kate closes her eyes, because even though she saw it coming, it doesn't make it any easier.

"I thought she was his sister, or a friend, or. . .But then they kissed, and – and I couldn't think, I couldn't move; I just watched as they went inside, laughing together like lovers."

"Beth."

Kate isn't sure what she's begging for, but she's breathless, her heart pounding, bleeding for her beautiful, tender-hearted sister.

"There's a doorman to his building. A nice guy, Mike. So after a moment, I went in, and asked Mike if he knew who she was."

"Beth. . ."

"You should have seen the look he gave me, Katie. So. . .sad, and pity-filled. It made me want to disappear, that the earth would swallow me. He said, 'Mr. Ford said she was his wife.'"

Tears are flowing freely down her sister's face now, but she's so quiet about it, so. . .broken. So unlike Beth.

"So I ran. Went home, booked a plane ticket, packed. I guess Mike must have talked to Jasper, because he called me a hundred times, called and called so I'd pick up."

"Did you?"

And again that bitter, disenchanted smile that doesn't suit her.

"Of course I did. He said he loved me, and that he was sorry, and he had gotten trapped inside this fantasy and I was so unexpected and he just. . .couldn't give me up. That he didn't mean to hurt me."

Kate can't help the disbelieving noise that escapes her, the spiteful, angry sound. Beth looks up, surprised, roused from her memories.

"I think he was telling the truth," she says thoughtfully. "At least in part. I don't think anyone can fake being in love like that. Or if they can, they deserve an Oscar."

Kate squeezes Beth's knee, unable to think of comforting words, of something appropriate.

"But of course it doesn't matter if he was telling the truth. I was still – the fantasy, right? She's the real thing. Whatever her name is."

Screw words, Kate decides, as she stands up and throws her arms around her sister's shoulders, hugs her fiercely. Words are not enough, are inadequate. No words can fix this sort of pain.

"Bethie."

A trembled laugh against her shoulder, and the warm wetness of more tears. "You don't know the worst part."

Kate's heart twists, sinks, because really, can it get any worse than this? She tightens her hold on Beth, braces herself.

"You know I'm on the pill, right? But I ran out of them, like a month ago, and I didn't have easy access to a doctor who could prescribe me more, or even a place to get a prescription filled. I should have organized myself better. But anyway. Everything was going so well with Jasper, and I was so in love, and I thought–"

"Beth, no." Kate can't breathe.

"Yes," her sister murmurs; her little sister, ashamed, crying into her shoulder.

Kate can't think. She's dizzy, lost. She hangs on to what thread she can, hangs on to Beth's words, to Beth's situation. Not hers. Please, not hers. She can't do this.

"Are you pregnant?" she finally finds the strength to whisper.

"I don't know," Beth confesses, moving away to meet Kate's eyes. Beth's are huge and liquid, a shimmering green. "I'm scared, Kate."

Oh, god.

"I know, baby," Kate answers, pulling her back into her embrace, pressing a kiss to the still-wet hair. "But it'll be okay. I promise, Beth. We'll be okay."

If only she could believe her own words.


	4. Chapter 4

Kate stares at Ashley for a long moment, relief battling with surprise. He hesitates at the front door and then clears his throat.

"Is she. . .here?"

"Oh. Sorry, yes." Kate steps back and blinks, the weight of secrets lifting a little from her shoulders. "Alexis!"

The girl comes to the top of the stairs, then flies down, bouncing a little at the bottom and leaning in to kiss Ashley on the cheek. "What are you doing here?"

"Brought you something," he says and reaches into his back pocket for a little white envelope.

Kate feels suddenly conspicuous, so she eases towards the kitchen. When Ashley showed up asking if Alexis might be willing to go on a surprise date with him, Kate couldn't have been more grateful.

If Alexis isn't here, and Castle isn't here either, then she can drag Beth to the store and get a handful of pregnancy tests. For Beth of course. And if one should happen to get pulled from the stack and slipped into her pocket, for later, for a better time, then. . .

Damn, she hates herself. But she can't think about this right now. Can't put that on Beth either, the one person she might have shared this with. Not while Beth is clearly so very much in pieces.

_Hey, Beth, I know you might be pregnant but guess what?_

Oh jeez. No.

Her stomach quivers the second she steps into the kitchen; Kate grabs a glass and fills it with water, drinks slowly, trying not to overhear Alexis's little squeal of delight.

She can't be pregnant. She doesn't even *live* here, and she doesn't know what's stopping her either. He's asked often enough, hinted and outright demanded, whined about her going home to her own apartment during the week and abandoning him. But she lets him come home with her often enough.

Even though he does get up and go back to his loft around four or five so he can see Alexis before she leaves for school. There's something about those mornings where she wakes up content and alone, satiated and alone, that makes her cling tighter to her own space.

She can't be pregnant. It's ridiculous. False alarm, surely.

Stress and letting herself get rundown and maybe a strain of Ryan's stomach flu.

"Kate! I'm gonna go out with Ashley for a few hours. Do you - you think Beth's going to be okay? Or should I stay here and-"

"No!" Kate jerks around, tries to calm her voice. "No. Alexis, she would definitely want you to go with Ashley. She's getting a shower and then the two of us will get out of the house for a little while; I've got it covered. So you don't need to worry."

All she's told Alexis is that Beth has a broken heart; she doesn't think this is something she can jump into with Castle's daughter. There's all kinds of issues here, moral ones, practical ones, and she's never talked to Castle about what kind of sex talk he's given Alexis (she is so not getting into the *when* question either), and that's not her place, and-

Oh jeez. She's not having a talk about how you make these decisions. About sex. And unplanned pregnancies and-

But maybe soon. She might have to soon.

Jeez. She's not ready for this. None of it.

"Thanks, Kate." Alexis leans in and hugs her, one of those awkward half-hugs that comes from not knowing where to put your arm or where the other person is going next. The kind Kate gets a lot from the girl.

And suddenly, watching Alexis leave with Ashley - to do what, she has no idea, but surely they've done. . .stuff - watching Alexis leave and not knowing, for sure, if Castle *has* said anything to Alexis, and if he has, then what-

She has to fight down the urge to call Alexis back and tell her to keep her pants on. No matter how much Ashley says he loves her.

Damn. She is *screwed.*

* * *

><p>Beth clutches her hand tightly the whole way. It's a short walk to the nearest drug store, but Kate changes her mind about showing her face there. It's the place Castle buys stuff before running home, the place she's known herself for being. . .with him, and she can't take the chance.<p>

She has a good excuse (it's for Beth), but she can't face it. If Castle asks her point blank, she's not sure what she would say. Can she lie to him now? Say there's nothing wrong? Conveniently leave out the small fact that one of these pregnancy tests is for-

Oh jeez, no. She's just got to keep him from asking in the first place. Ignorance is bliss.

Beth's hand tightens on hers when they get to the CVS pharmacy; they go inside and drift past the aisles. Kate keeps her eyes open for either people she might know - it happens - or the feminine products.

Of course, it's at the back near the pharmacists' counter. The second they get within sight, Beth stops in the middle of the aisle, squeezing Kate's hand so tight that Kate's fingers blanch white.

This is about her sister. Not herself.

"Bethie. We're just buying a couple tests. You can do this." Kate turns to her slowly, keeping hold of her sister's hand. "I'm right here. I won't leave you. You're not alone."

"But I am," she whispers. "I *am* alone."

"No." Kate jerks her sister in closer, wraps both arms around her neck. "No, you're not. If you think, for even a second, you're alone in this, you are sadly mistaken. I'm not going to let you out of my sight. I'll be so nosy and bossy, little sister, that you'll go back to hating me."

"Never hate you," Beth mumbles on a laugh, hugging her back. No awkward hugs between them.

"Don't think about what it means if it's positive, just think. . .negative," Kate laughs back, pulling away to look at her sister. "Don't make yourself sick over something that might not even be true."

Pot, meet kettle.

Kate sighs to herself and hugs Beth again, a quick squeeze, then turns around and drags her sister to the pregnancy tests.

* * *

><p>When Castle takes Alex Conrad home with him, he's not sure what he expected.<p>

But not this.

Kate and Beth have apparently come in from shopping or something because he and Alex find them waiting for the elevator in the lobby. Neither woman is paying attention, their heads are together, dark on dark, both peering into a plastic bag. Castle grins at Alex and puts a finger to his lips.

He walks softly towards Kate, double checking to make absolutely certain the Beckett he's got his eye on really is his Beckett, and then he wraps an arm around her stomach and claps a hand over her eyes.

"Guess who?"

The second his hand goes over her eyes, Beth shrieks, and Kate steps back into him, swinging her elbow into his ribs, using her momentum to twist out of his grasp, flip his arm behind his back, and drive him down to his knees.

"Shit - Castle - damn it!"

She releases him, but he's got a wicked line of pain running down his side, and he's laughing too hard to catch his breath.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she growls at him, ducking down to catch his gaze, her hands on his shoulders.

He waves her off, slowly getting back to his feet, still trying to keep from laughing since every wheeze of breath brings a new pain into his side.

"Are you okay?" she says, gentler, her fingers brushing against his side where she jammed her elbow. "I could have broken your arm. God, Castle, don't ever do that to me again."

He nods, wiping tears from his eyes, clears his throat. "Yeah," he starts, then has to clear his throat again. He glances back and sees Alex Conrad with a stunned face, mouth open as he stares at Kate. "Alex Conrad, meet Detective Kate Beckett."

Kate jerks around and glances to the man, then back to him, and something in her eyes makes him wonder what the hell is going on, but she looks back to her sister and Beth comes forward.

"Alex, nice to meet you," Kate says, offering a hand to shake. Conrad does, blinking, looking almost tentative. "And this is my sister, Beth."

Beth just nods; Castle can see the plastic bag with their shopping is shoved down into Beth's purse. Kate looks back at him with a glare.

"What the *hell* was that, Castle?"

"Stupid idea. Totally. Yes. I know that now." Castle steps forward and grabs her by the hip, tugging her closer to him, away from Conrad. "Wanna kiss and make it better?"

"No. I want you to not molest police officers. I seriously almost broke your arm, Castle. And if I'd been a little more with it, I'd have elbowed you in the throat and we'd be taking you to the emergency room. I'm so glad I wasn't carrying my weapon," she finally hisses.

She's glaring at him, all passionate fury, but he knows at least half of it is directed right back at herself. He leans in and brushes his lips across hers, concentrates on the corner of her mouth to make a point. When he lets her go, she's looks even more flustered than she did before.

"You just getting back?" he asks.

The elevator doors open right then, great timing, and Castle gestures for Conrad to get on with them, follow them up.

"Yes, we just got back," Beth answers, giving him a smile. But it's not the right one; it's a terrible impression of Beth's usual cheer, and he wonders again if Kate's had a chance to talk to her sister about whatever might be troubling her.

"I thought I'd show Alex the writing process. He's trying to learn from the master," Castle says, lifting his eyebrows.

"The writing process? You mean procrastinate until the last minute and then lock yourself in your study for days so you can make deadline?" Kate says, giving him an entirely too-sweet smile.

He makes a face at her. "No." She lifts an eyebrow. "Well. Yes."

Conrad laughs and leans against the side of the elevator. "Well, even that's better than having the worst plot in the history of mystery novels. That's what one editor told me."

Kate shakes her head; Castle slides a little closer and slips his hand into hers. She clutches at his fingers, squeezing in apology or frustration, maybe both.

"Don't let that get to you. Plots require some attention, but I've got a couple strategies for getting it all down. I can show them to you."

The elevator opens and their little group spills out into the hallway. Kate's already got her key out and she unlocks the door for them all. Beth disappears the moment she gets inside, and Castle notices Conrad looking after her with something like disappointment on his face.

He turns to Kate but she's heading up the stairs as well. "Kate?"

"Alexis is out with Ashley. I'm-" She gestures towards Beth and by the look on her face, he assumes that means she was in the middle of having a deep conversation with her sister. Hopefully about whatever is troubling the woman. But she stops on the stairs. "Oh. Wait."

He glances back to Kate. "Yeah?"

"How. . .badly did I get you?"

"I'm fine," he says, waving her off.

"Do you need ice?" She wavers on the stairs, and her somewhat pathetic attempt at nursing is actually kinda cute. Castle moves to the staircase and starts up a few, meeting Kate as she comes back down, watching him.

"I don't need ice," he says softly, then cradles her cheeks with his hands and kisses her.

She sighs into his mouth and then parts her lips, strokes his tongue with hers, soft and hesitant. They slowly break apart, and the flicker of regret or grief in her eyes is suddenly so clear and naked that it takes his breath away.

"You okay?" he says softly, angling his body so that it blocks Conrad's view of Kate. Not that Conrad is back there hanging off every word, but he wants to give Kate the chance to be vulnerable if she needs it.

She watches him for a second. He can see her debating something with herself, and then she kisses him softly, chastely, her thumb brushing his lip. "You're the real thing," she says softly. "I know it."

And then she heads back up the stairs and he's left wondering what in the world *that* was about.

* * *

><p>Beth is so nervous she almost feels like throwing up. It's a good thing she didn't eat anything before they left for the drug store.<p>

The drug store. Pregnancy tests.

Oh, she can't believe this. No no no. It must be some sort of mistake.

Except it's not, it's not, and she remembers perfectly well finding out that her stash of pills was exhausted, remembers perfectly well deciding that it didn't matter, and then four nights after that, she was with Jasper and...

Yes, that. And not just once.

And it wasn't just that night, either. Oh, god. Beth closes her eyes, swallows back a moan. It's her own fault. Her own mistake, and she has to deal with the consequences, whatever they might be.

She's never been so good with consequences. Something like this had to happen someday, right?

She drops her handbag on the bed, and the contents spill, the white and blue of pregnancy tests matching the dark blue bedspread. One, two, three, four, five.

Kate said it was better to get one of each brand, because they didn't know which one was best (neither of them was willing to ask) and then one could be wrong, so... Against all expectations, Beth finds herself smiling, because even in this, her sister's so organized, so very different from her.

Beth would have grabbed the first test she could and ran out of the store; but Kate thinks about things, weighs her options, even in such a situation. Even buying pregnancy tests for her sister.

Beth starts laughing, but it's nervous, a manic laugh, not the good kind. It only calms down when Kate comes in the room after her, closing the door carefully before she moves towards Beth and puts gentle hands on her shoulders.

"Hey. It'll be okay."

Beth nods, her throat too thick for words, and bites down on her lower lip. She looks down at the tests as she would look at an attacker, sizing them up and trying to assess the extent of the potential damage.

In the end, she just grabs the first one, squeezes Kate's hand and walks into the bathroom, blinking back her tears.

* * *

><p>The test says to wait two minutes; a plus sign will tell Beth whether or not she's expecting a baby. Jasper's baby. She sucks in a breath, closes her eyes tightly.<p>

The worst thing – the worst thing is that she almost wants it to be positive, because even if she's scared, even if she's terrified, _then_ she would have something to show for the four months she spent falling in love with that man, a physical evidence of it, a testimony to...

No. This is wrong. No. It would be terrible to have a baby in such conditions. For such bad reasons. Beth lets her eyes slide open again, and promises herself that if she truly is pregnant, she will *not* use that child to get to Jasper.

"Never," she whispers, a hand coming to rest on her flat stomach. "I swear."

It will be her child, and that's it. Nothing shameful about it. A child born out of love.

She thinks of her sister, of Castle and Alexis, of her father – all these wonderful people that would be here to support her every step of the way, and the weight on her chest eases. She looks at the mirror, smiles at her reflection.

A small, encouraging smile. _You can do this_.

Her phones chimes. Shit. It's been two minutes already.

"Kate?"

She meant to do this on her own, be responsible, be an adult, but suddenly it's too much. She can't. Her sister opens the door so fast that Beth wonders if she was lingering just outside, waiting for her call.

"Yes?"

Beth holds out her right hand, the one clenched around the pregnancy test, and looks into Kate's eyes. She sees a reflection of her own anxiety, and other things, darker things, that she can't quite decipher right now.

"Will you look for me?"

Her sister's face softens, the gentle warmth so similar to their mother's that it makes Beth's heart ache. Thank god Johanna Beckett isn't here to see her now.

Kate pries her fingers away from the stick, takes it delicately, and looks. She immediately releases a deep breath, smiles at Beth, relief lighting her up.

"It's negative. It's negative, Beth."

Oh. Beth tries to wrestle with her own feelings, untangle them; a minute ago she was busy convincing herself that a child could be a good thing, and now – now she doesn't have to. Okay.

It's good, right? She's not ready to be a mom.

She can acknowledge the truth in this statement, and belated relief trickles into her, even though a small part of her mind is still wrapped around the idea of tiny fingers around her thumb, of dark brown eyes just like Jasper's.

She sighs. It's better this way.

Kate has disappeared after giving her back the test, and squeezing her wrist in comfort or congratulation, Beth doesn't know. She comes back now, another white box in her hand. This one has pink and blue designs on it.

"Take another one," she says decidedly, holding it out for Beth.

The urge to cry is so strong; Beth isn't sure she can resist. *Again*? Kate wants her to go through this, the abject terror and the irrational disappointment, again? But she can see the logic in that, can see the sense of it, and she did say she was going to be responsible about this, didn't she?

Beth takes the test.

* * *

><p>The third one is also a negative; Kate decides that it's enough proof. Besides, Beth looks washed out, even though the last one seemed easier on her. Kate drops a hand to her sister's shoulder, presses it gently.<p>

She's incredibly grateful that Beth won't have to live with a permanent reminder of her heartbreak, won't have to adapt and change to face unplanned – and single – parenthood. She sneaks a glance back to the bed, to the two remaining tests, itching to know, to have that kind of certainty for herself.

Later. Not now.

She helps Beth back onto her feet, notices the look on her face, equal parts peace and regret. Kate knows, all too well, the things going on in her sister's mind; she tugs on Beth's wrist, pulls her into a half-hug.

"Hey," she says softly. "Beth. You'll have kids someday, and you'll be great. You'll be the coolest mom ever. Just...not today, okay?"

Beth hugs back, letting out a shaky sigh, almost a sob.

"I know. I know it's for the best. This – isn't what I wanted."

No, she wanted a family with the guy she loved, the guy who she thought loved her. The guy who didn't deserve her in the slightest. She didn't want to be abandoned and pregnant. Kate gritted her teeth, embers of her anger still blazing inside her.

"No one should have to do this alone," she whispers fiercely, and without warning her heart goes out to Castle, who may not have gone through a lonely pregnancy, but who did do this parenting thing all by himself. Who gave his little girl the world to make up for her lack of a worthy mother.

It only makes her love him more.

After a moment, Beth draws back, gives her sister a sly smile, much more like herself.

"You know, you'll be a great mom too," she points out. "Started already, haven't you?"

Kate's mind goes blank. Completely, absolutely blank. It's a miracle that she can keep her face neutral enough for Beth not to notice.

"Alexis really looks up to you, you know. And I think it's great that you care about her so much."

Alexis. Right. Alexis is who Beth meant, not some non-existent embryo in Kate's belly. Air suddenly comes through to her lungs, and Kate fights for her next breath to be measured and inconspicuous.

But Beth gives her a puzzled look, eyebrows coming together like she's noticed that something just happened and she's going to try and figure out what.

"Downstairs," Kate blurts out, desperate for an escape. "Let's go downstairs, before Castle scares Alex Conrad to death or scars him for life."

Beth doesn't look convinced, but – thank God – she follows without voicing her doubts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Stop Haunting Me**

by **Sandiane Carter** and** chezchuckles**

* * *

><p>Castle walks Conrad to the door and shows him out, smiling, shaking the man's hand. He's a little wary of just how charming and smooth the new author was as soon as the Beckett sisters came downstairs (both of them looking rather strained, actually), but he can't fault the man for it. The Beckett appeal is too great to ignore.<p>

At the door, Conrad hesitates, his coat over his arm. "Ah, this may be really forward of me. So please just tell me to shut up, but. . ."

Castle waits for it, pretty sure that he knows where this is going.

"Could you. . .see if Beth says anything about me?" Alex's face looks entirely too hopeful and pathetic for Castle to mess with him.

Still, he'll rib the man a little. "Do you want me to pass her a note during English class? Circle yes or no?"

Conrad actually blushes, and Castle feels bad for teasing him. A little bit. Nah, not really at all.

"Just so you know, Conrad?"

At the sound of his last name, Alex jerks up, spine straight. The first-time author must hear it in Castle's voice, because he's become the shy caller stopping at the homestead for a courting.

"Beth is Kate's sister. So that means Beth is like *my* sister. You get me?"

Alex nods and gulps. "I. . .I get you."

Castle stares him down for a moment, only to be interrupted by Kate appearing at his side.

"What are you doing?" she says, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Nothing. Saying bye. Go open the wine for dinner," he says back, nudging her hip.

Instead of giving him one of those _do it and you die_ looks for telling her what to do, Kate's face blanches, her hand comes up to her mouth. She pushes past him for the bathroom and he forgets all about Conrad.

"Uh, I'll go. I don't think she looks so good. . .I should go." Conrad shuffles backwards. Castle absently shuts the door on him and then heads for his bedroom, bypassing a curiously quiet Beth in the living room.

"Hey, Beth," he says, stopping suddenly. "You all right?"

She comes back from wherever she was with what looks like a great deal of effort, gives him a wooden smile. "Good. Just. . .thinking."

"Well, think about Alex Conrad for awhile, would you? Yes, no, maybe, not in a million years." At the look on her face, that sick and devastated shine in her eyes, he backpedals immediately, reverses direction to come sit beside her on the couch. Kate doesn't want him trying to 'help' anyway, so. . .

"You telling me your author buddy likes me, Rick?"

He shrugs with a half-hearted grin. "Yeah. Just so you know, I broke the guy code there, but yeah. He does."

Beth shakes her head and puts a hand to her cheek. "Perfect. Just. . .perfect."

"Is that your answer?" He's confused by the grief circling in her eyes, like water draining too slowly in a bathtub.

"No. That's not an answer. I'll. . .let you know, Rick."

She doesn't seem to be willing to share any more than that, and Kate's absence is starting to gnaw at him, so Castle leaves her on the couch, knowing that Kate seemed to have the Beth siutation under control earlier.

He finds Kate in the bathroom, leaning against the shower door as she sits sprawled in the floor, the back of her hand to her mouth.

"Kate?"

She waves him off. "I'm okay."

"You're sick."

She wavers for a second and he thinks she just might puke, but she swallows it down. It makes his own stomach roll in sympathy.

"Okay, hey, stay in here as long as you need," he says, easing down beside her on the cold tile floor. "I won't make you come out. Me and your sister will have an awkward dinner together."

She brings a hand to his mouth, squeezing his lips together with her fingers, her head tilted back and eyes closed, apparently fighting another bout of nausea.

"Sorry," he mumbles around her fingers, and she lets him go. "Won't talk about that. You should see a doctor, Kate. If this is more than a 24 hour bug."

"If it is, I will," she says, and he could swear she's trying to breathe through tears. It scares him a little, seeing her like this.

"Kate, hey, it's just a stomach virus," he says, drawing an arm around her and trying to pull her into him. She resists though, pushing back, and he supposes it's for the best. He doesn't want her throwing up on him. He massages the back of her neck instead. "Want me to call in a favor, have someone see you right now?"

She grunts, must be a no, and drops her hand from her mouth. "I'm. . .good for now. But thank you. I'll call my doctor on Monday when his office opens. If I'm. . .still like this."

Castle nods, brushes the hair from where it's fallen across one eye. "It's okay to be sick, Beckett. Everyone gets sick. Even crazy-hot, super-cops like yourself."

She gives him a smile that's more watery than he would like, but shoves on his raised knee. "Go start. . .you know. I'll come join you in a few minutes."

He gives her a long look, then nods and gets to his feet. Kate's a solitary person; he knows that. So he doesn't take offense when she needs time to herself. He's asked her a hundred different ways if she'll move in with him, and she finds a new way to say no without actually hurting his feelings every time.

Maybe because even when she wants to be alone, she lets him know it won't be for long.

* * *

><p>Kate's an evil, terrible person. She really is. She's sneaking upstairs to steal Beth's last two pregnancy tests while her sister and her. . .whatever he is. . .are both pulling things out of the pantry.<p>

But that roll of her stomach at the door when Castle mentioned both wine and dinner has her needing, *needing*, to know. Now. Soon. She's bought some time but can she really expect to be able to get away with this?

She's tempted to take both tests in the bathroom upstairs, but oh no, no. She can't. Not here, now, not just yet. Too exposed up here.

She's halfway certain she's pregnant, and halfway convinced she's going a little crazy, seeing symptoms and signs where there are none. She creeps into Beth's room to get through to the connecting bathroom that way, finds the two boxes on the bathroom counter.

She wraps the used pregnancy sticks in toilet paper and dumps them in the trash. Beth had just slid them back into the boxes they came in, but Kate knows that just throwing away the boxes isn't going to work. Not in this house.

She flattens the boxes, rips them into a few smaller pieces, shoves the pieces down into the trash. Kate washes her hands in hot water, mesmerized by the soap, the burn, until she snaps out of it and dries her hands off.

The two stolen boxes are in her hands, heavy somehow. She swallows hard and puts them in the pocket of her zippered sweatshirt, which she stole from Castle's closet just for this clandestine raid. It's one of his goofy sweatshirts, with a squirrel masked bandit holding up another squirrel for his acorn. The back of the sweatshirts says, "Nuts!" It's not as funny as Castle seems to think it is, but it's warm. And the pockets are deep.

As she heads back for the door, Beth walks in, stumbling to a stop when she sees Kate.

"What are you doing?"

Kate freezes, then glances over her shoulder at the bathroom. "Just. . .getting rid of evidence. Just in case. The Castles are. . .prone to ferretting out all your secrets." Kate tries to smile at her sister and she thinks she's pulled it off.

Beth tilts her head and nods slowly. "I guess so. Okay. Um, thanks?"

Kate takes a deep breath and smiles back. "Yeah. No problem."

Her sister watches her too intently. "I thought you were feeling sick."

"Still am," she admits, smiling tightly. "I think I caught a stomach bug. It's going around at work. But since I had the perfect chance to come up here, do this. . .for you. . .I just-"

"Okay. Right. Well, I was gonna grab some socks; my feet are freezing. Stay and I can walk with you back down? Interesting developments."

Developments? Walk her back down?

"Uh, sure."

Kate moves to the door and waits on her sister to find her socks and pull them on, then follows her back down the stairs.

Her hands are shoved into the pockets of the zipper front sweatshirt, clutching a pregnancy test in each hand. She listens as Beth talks about Alex Conrad, or half-listens, her mind occupied by the hard cardboard boxes hidden from view.

When they get to the bottom of the stairs, Rick's sweeping her into the kitchen and offering her wine, getting her to taste the chili he made, babbling about how Conrad likes Beth and kissing in a tree, and slowly her brain clicks over and she reaches up and shushes him before he can repeat the rest of that nursery rhyme, "And then comes Beth with a baby carriage." Which would just not. . .be good.

Castle looks at her in surprise and she feels the weight of the cardboard in her pockets, but she lifts on tiptoe and kisses his mouth, removing her hand, her fingers at his chin.

"You talk too much," she says softly.

He kisses her back, his tongue along her lips, then pushing past. Beth snorts; Kate hears her as if form a long distance, then feels him press against her. She backs away; he can't feel what's in her pocket.

Castle grins at her though. "You taste like sweet tea. And apples. You didn't get sick?"

"Ew," Beth says, throwing her hand up at them.

Kate laughs at him, her hands back in her pockets, her mind racing for a way to get these two little boxes somewhere hidden. "Didn't get sick. Though I thought about it. Long and hard."

He nods and brushes a hand down her arm to the inside of her elbow. "Good."

She nods, but her mouth is dry. She's going to be stuck here with these pregnancy tests in her pockets throughout dinner.

* * *

><p>Beth offers her services in the kitchen, hoping it might provide an anchor for her wandering mind. Rick puts her in charge of the vegetables: he gives her a chopping board along with carrots, celery and tomatoes, and instructions to cut very small pieces.<p>

She devotes herself to the task, and after a few moments she's laughing at Castle's jokes and even participating in the conversation, feeling lighter than she has in days.

Kate is sitting on one of the stools, looking thoughtful (Castle has refused to let her do anything, "You're sick; you rest," he said in a final tone, and surprisingly enough, she didn't fight him). Beth catches her glancing surreptiously at her bedroom (or Castle's bedroom, whatever), with something like longing in her eyes.

It's strange. There's something going on there, something more that Beth can't quite see yet. She doesn't think it has to do with the trip to the drug store and the pregnancy tests, but she might be wrong.

Guilt flares inside her at the thought of the pregnancy tests, because she almost forgot for a while, let herself be happy again, and... That's what she does, isn't it? Move on from one thing to the next, like a butterfly, with about as much emotion.

She never hurts for long. And she hates that about herself. It never bothered her until now, but she was in love this time, for real, for good, and she sort of wants to be shattered, to be in pieces, to not be able to smile and laugh like she does.

To be like Kate was, after their mother died.

But no. She doesn't work like that.

Her heart may still be heavy, may still be raw, but she can be certain that it'll be better tomorrow, and even better the day after that.

Just how things go. She sighs, shakes her head, a little sick of herself.

"Hey, Beth?"

She looks up; Rick has half-turned to her, but he's keeping an eye on the meat in the frying pan. He's wearing an apron that says, "Kids can help too!" – she tries (and fails) not to snicker. Gets her every time.

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to do anything about Alex, you know. I was joking. Mostly."

Mostly as in, he did tell me that he liked you, but it's your call anyway. Richard Castle can be so damn sweet sometimes.

Beth glances at her sister, half-expecting to find her giving her boyfriend that "I'm not rolling my eyes but it's only because you're cute" look, but Kate is still staring into space, unaware, absent. Uh.

"Yeah, I know," Beth answers distractedly, and she only looks back at Castle when she adds, "Thanks for the heads up though, Rick."

Knowing that Alex Conrad is attracted to her does *not* mean that she owes him anything, she tells herself firmly. That's his problem. And she ruthlessly suppresses the warm, flattered feeling that tries to come to life in her chest.

She is not going to jump from one relationship to the next, not this time. She could use some time alone. She needs to figure out what she wants, who she wants to be. Alex Conrad, no matter how blue his eyes, how nice his smile, has no part to play in this.

"I guess I'll see him around," she concludes as Rick leans in to examine her chopped vegetables.

"You will," he replies with a pleased smile, taking the chopping board away from her. "He said he was in the city for a week. Leaves next Saturday. Plenty of time," he adds with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

Laughter tickles Beth's ribs, trembles in her chest as she fights it back.

"Trying to set me up, Mr. Castle?" She teases.

"Always," he shoots back smoothly. "It's a tragedy that concerns men all over the world, you know. For such a beautiful woman to be single. I'd do anything to help fix this terrible situation."

"What a noble ideal."

"That's me. Noble. The very essence of my being. Ask Kate."

Both of them turn to the detective, and Beth sees her sister's attention snap back to them, watches as Kate's brain catches up. And then the familiar smirk quirks her lips.

"Noble, Castle? Really?"

"Well, I do hold the door for you in restaurants –"

"That's called old-fashioned. Sorry to disappoint."

Beth snorts. *That* is the Kate she loves.

"How about coffee then? I bring you coffee every morning, a selfless gesture if I ever –"

"First of all, it's not _every _morning. And second, selfless? You're just trying to get laid."

Castle gapes in outrage, points a mockly accusing finger at her.

"So cynical, detective! I have no such intentions. I'm a real –"

"And most of the time it works, too."

Beth chuckles when she sees Castle's face, eyes wide in shock, his mouth open on the word that won't come out ("gentleman" is her guess). Then a calculating look takes over, along with a sly, proud smile.

"It does, uh?"

"Do you not keep score, Castle?"

Ha. Point for Katie. Rick narrows his eyes at her, like he can't believe she just said that, but finds it unbelievably arousing at the same time. Beth is tempted to joke and say, "kid in the room!" but they're too much fun to watch. And she's enjoying the distraction.

The longer she spends listening to her sister bantering with Castle, the further away she gets from pregnancy tests, married men, and young writers.

And that's exactly what Beth wants.

* * *

><p>Castle watches Beckett eat, an absurd delight spreading in his belly everytime a mouthful of his vegetable lasagna makes it past the long line of her throat. She's eating, and a hint of color has come back to her cheeks – she no longer looks like she might throw up any minute.<p>

It makes him ridiculously happy.

Some guys might enjoy seeing their girlfriends sick, either because they like cuddling on the couch or because they feel stronger, more secure, when the other person is at their most vulnerable, but Rick doesn't belong to either of those categories.

And a sick Kate, a vulnerable Kate, is just...not right. He likes his beautiful, confident, kick-ass detective.

Of course he loves her whatever the circumstances, no matter what she looks like. There's no question of that. But she's happier when she's healthy, and well, Castle's happy when she is.

Hence the relief and satisfaction currently pouring through his body.

"Lasagna's gonna get cold, Castle," Beth teases on his left, and he comes out of his blissful contemplation, smiles wryly.

"Always so considerate, you Becketts," he states with oh, no irony at all.

Beth smiles that charming, innocent smile that she's so good at.

"We live to serve," she shoots back, grinning around her fork.

"Hear that, Kate?" he taunts, arching an eyebrow at her. "You live to serve."

"Serve the good people of New York City, Castle. *Not* serve you. Get your mind out of the gutter."

He glances discreetly at her plate; half her share is gone already. Good.

"And stop checking out my food, Rick. I'm not a child, *and* it's a little creepy. Focus on your own plate, Mr. Writer."

So much for discretion. He gives her his best sheepish look, gets an eyeroll for his troubles. Yup, she's definitely doing better.

Castle does as she says and happily gulps down his food, only stopping to down his water when he burns his tongue on a too-hot bite. The next time he looks up from his (now empty) plate, Beth is looking at him, a little stunned, while amusement makes Kate's dark eyes shine.

"That was...an impressive performance," Beth says, laughter bubbling in her voice.

Rick looks at the girls' plates: nowhere near empty. Okay. He might just have provided a perfect illustration of the phrase 'stuffing one's face.'

He locks gazes with Kate, gives her a laughing, unapologetic look. "Wanna help me burn those calories later?"

"Such a tempting offer." Her words carry a heavy dose of irony, but he doesn't miss the flicker of arousal that crosses her face. Oh yeah.

Kate Beckett is hot for him. That's right.

He feels stupidly smug at the thought.

He winks at her, lets a slow, slow smile quirk the corner of his mouth, a promise. He's going to surprise her tonight. Have her gasping before she can even see it coming.

His name falling from her breathless lips.

The fire inside him burns harder as the image lingers in his brain, so enticing, and as much as he loves Beth, right now he'd give anything to have her gone.

To be alone with Kate and her soft, soft skin, the dark waves along that smooth line of her neck that he will kiss until she shivers, until she moans and arches against him.

He sighs.

Patience. The queen of all virtues.

* * *

><p>When Kate gets up from the table, the light ruffle of the cardboard boxes in her pocket reminds her why it's a bad idea to go and give Castle a thorough kiss, or even to offer her help doing the dishes.<p>

Instead, she excuses herself to the bedroom, lets out a sigh of relief when she closes the door after her.

But then she looks around, confronted with a new problem. Where to hide the tests if she wants to be sure Castle won't find them?

Bedside table and closet get dismissed first, because they're simply too obvious; but at the same time there are the only spaces that Kate can really claim as hers (part of the closet, anyway: she has about as many casual clothes here as she does work clothes at her apartment), and planting the pregnancy tests among Castle's stuff seems...a little bold.

At the same time, bold could be good. Sometimes, the best way to hide is to not hide at all.

Holding on to that idea, Kate moves to the bathroom, opens the drawers. There. In the second drawer, there's an extra tube of toothpaste, and the box is very similar, in shape and size, to the ones she's holding in her hand.

If she puts next to the toothpaste...

Kate arranges the drawer, and looks at it critically. The word pregnancy still pops out, makes her sigh in frustration. She moves things around, puts the toothpaste on top of the tests.

Better.

Not that Castle has any reason to go looking in that drawer anyway, but if he does, she should be safe.

She wavers, her hand on the drawer handle, wondering if she couldn't possibly take one of the tests now. Rick's voice answers her, coming from the bedroom – too close – and she snaps the drawer shut, smooths her face to look inconspicuous.

"Kate?"

"Yes," she answers, pushing the bathrom door fully open and stepping out.

The concern on Castle's face causes guilt and love to twist into a tight knot in her stomach.

"Are you feeling sick again?" he asks, tilting his head.

"No," she answers quickly, brushing a light hand to his forehead, his cheek, anxious to erase the lines she put there. "Just needed to use the bathroom."

He leans into her touch; she smiles, feels her whole being soften.

"You've been gone a long time," he observes, opening his eyes again. It's not a reproach, not an accusation, simply the words of a man who doesn't want to be lied to.

She bites her lip.

"I'm fine," she assures in the end, tiptoeing to kiss his lips, gentle at first, then a little more insistent.

After a moment he kisses her back, his arms coming around her waist, his mouth opening to let their tongues mingle. He tastes like lasagna and chocolate (they had ice-cream for dessert); he tastes like the man she loves, and Kate melts against him, her brain turning into a warm, fuzzy mess.

She's a little breathless when he breaks the kiss, but seeing the desperate way he gulps air down, she's not the only one.

"Your sister," he says, as if the effort necessary to complete a sentence is too great for him to even consider it.

And maybe it is.

Kate smirks.

"I'm sure Beth will want to go bed early," she suggests, "with the jetlag and..." Everything she went through today. The smile falls off Beckett's face, and she quickly finishes, "and everything."

Castle arches an eyebrow at her, but he doesn't ask, doesn't push. Which in turns makes her want to tell him. She should ask Beth if she can share the whole story.

Usually her sister isn't big on privacy, but then again, Kate has never seen Beth cry over a boy before. Or it was so long ago that she doesn't remember.

Rick's hand, tugging on her arm, brings her back to the present. She looks up, finds him smiling.

"Go," he says softly, his eyes warm. "Go talk to your sister. I'll wait here, write a little. God knows I've had plenty to...stimulate the imagination," he finishes with a sly lift of his eyebrow.

If Kate was the giggling sort, now would be the right time for it.

Since she's not, she simply sends him the slow, sexy smile that he loves, and leans into him, just enough that their chests are brushing.

"I live to serve," she whispers, taunting.

And then she walks out of the room, her hips swinging, carried by the sounds of Castle's laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

The living-room is empty; Kate checks the kitchen, but no Beth. Well, she must have gone up to the guest bedroom, then.

Strange. Despite what she told Castle, Kate doesn't actually expect her sister to surrender and go to bed quite so early. Beth usually likes watching TV for awhile, or drinking a glass of wine while listening to music.

She's not the read-in-bed type. Not like Kate. (Well, in her case, it would probably be read-in-bath. But anyway).

Notes of music reach the detective as she gets to the top of the stairs, confirming Beth's location. They're escaping from the partially closed door of the guest bedroom, a lively, catchy tune, the opposite of the depressing love songs girls listen to after their breakups in every romantic comedy.

Kate smiles, knocks at the door before she pushes it open.

"Beth?"

Her laptop is on the bed, generously contributing the music, but still no Beth in sight. The bathroom's lights are on, however, and Kate moves towards it, peers inside.

Her sister is singing in front of the mirror – probably didn't hear the soft knock – holding a pair of scissors in one hand, a comb in the other, and she's. . .

She's cutting her own hair, it seems. Short strands frame the right side of her face, barely reaching her chin, and she's doing the back now. Or rather, making a mess of it.

"Beth," Kate exclaims, stunned, a little horrified. "What are you doing?"

A beautiful chestnut curl falls to the floor as Beth jumps, meets Kate's eyes in the mirror.

"Oh. Kate. I didn't hear you."

Kate wants to say sorry, but the word stays stuck in her throat. "What are you doing?" she asks again instead, trying to suppress the shock in her own voice. She's not sure why she's so upset, but her heart is pounding in her chest, her stomach rolling.

Beth looks nervous, but she bites her lips and faces her sister, her mouth pressing together in determination.

"I'm cutting my hair. I need – I need a change, Katie." She ponders her next words, meets Kate's eyes. "I don't want to go back to my old ways," she half-explains, half-pleads. "I need this. I need to be reminded of it every time I look in the mirror. Because otherwise I'll forget. I know I will."

Kate's chest swells with emotion and a good measure of pride, because this is her little sister growing up, her little sister acting mature (probably more mature than Kate right now, because at least she's not lying and concealing potentially life-altering information).

"And you couldn't wait to go to the hair-dresser, huh? Such a drama queen."

Beth chuckles, turns back to the mirror, relief smoothing the lines of her face.

"Are you criticizing my hair-cutting abilities, dear sister?" She runs her fingers through the short side of her hair, shakes her head a little. "I think it's quite artistic, really. Maybe I should open my own salon."

Kate eyes the misshapen side, bites her lower lip. "Do you. . .need help?"

"Are you saying I do need help?" Beth smirks at her in the mirror, bringing the scissors up again. "No, Katie. I want to do this on my own."

Kate walks further into the bathroom, leans against the counter so she can watch her sister chop off all that gorgeous, beautiful hair. "I love your hair. It's got so much body; those beautiful, loose curls-"

"He did too," Beth says, her face a mixture of pain and disgust and love. Still love. Kate knows, expected at least, that it's not easy to give that up. Could she give up loving Castle if-

She has to press her hand to her chest to still that thought, or rather, the wave of nausea that rides it, lifts up her throat.

"Katie? You okay?"

She nods tightly. "I'm fine."

"No. No, you're not. And you know that." Beth lowers the scissors, but Kate waves her off.

"Finish it. I can trim the ends for you, make sure it's shaped right, at least."

"Fine. But you need to talk to me. Two-way street, remember?"

"I know. There's nothing-"

"You're afraid to move in with him."

Kate pushes down on the sensation of queasiness that rises up again, bites her lip in an effort to keep it away. "Not afraid. Just. . .wary."

"And what happened to me. With Jasper. That probably hasn't changed your mind much, has it?"

Kate gives her sister a soft, sad smile. "Well. No."

"Oh, but Katie, he loves you."

Her chest tightens, warmth and pleasure and hope - damning, destructive hope - rising in her. "I know. I know he does."

"So move in with him already. He clearly wants you here."

She nods. "He does." Kate feels the bile churn in her stomach. "I can't. . .can we just lay off my issues for right now? We'll get back to them, I promise. When I feel better."

Beth looks at her, long and hard. "It's more than being sick, isn't it?"

Acrid panic burns her stomach, her esophagus; she shuts her eyes and clamps a hand over her lips. Her mouth starts to water; she feels herself wanting to gag. Her dinner isn't going to stay down.

Beth lifts the toilet seat, pushes on Kate's back. She drops to her knees and vomits into the bowl, feels infinitely better the second it's over.

She could stay right here for awhile; the bowl is nice and cool-

Oh, gross, and so very disgusting. Kate lifts her head, presses the back of her hand to her mouth. Beth is running water; she comes and kneels by Kate in the floor, wipes a washcloth along Kate's cheeks, forehead, the back of her neck.

"Just like mom," Kate sighs, closing her eyes. "You'll be a great mom some day."

She hears Beth's quick breath, curses herself for saying it. But Beth kisses her cheek. "So will you, Katie."

She will? What if some day is actually. . .

"I can't wait to be Aunt Beth to all those adorable little Castle babies."

Beth is grinning at her, mischievous eyes, happy again. Kate moans, presses a hand to her stomach.

"Just how many are you thinking, little sister?"

Beth's laughter echoes in the bathroom. "Oh you know. Four or five."

Kate sits up with a gasp, her stomach rolling. "Four or *five*? You're crazy."

Beth shrugs, her half-cut hair swirling around her face. "Better get started, huh?"

And Kate is so very tempted to confess, spill her secrets out in the floor, let them stain the tile, let Kate get clean again.

But Castle. . .

He deserves to be the first to know. If there's anything to know. There's probably nothing to know.

She presses her hand to her belly, tries to breathe.

"Okay, okay," Beth laughs. "Didn't mean for that thought to make you puke again. Here, flush the toilet and brush your teeth. Then you can help me make sure I get this even."

* * *

><p>He's not surprised when his writing is interrupted by a phone call from Alex Conrad.<p>

"Hey, Rick."

"You make it back all right?"

"I found the right stop, yeah." The other writer laughs on the line.

Castle saves his document and sits back in the chair, propping his feet up on his desk. He's not been writing too seriously because he's waiting on Kate (he doesn't want to get sucked into the story he's writing when Kate's real and alive and wants him).

"Am I interrupting dinner?"

"No, we're done. You know, good thing you had that meeting tonight because I don't think you want to stick around here. Got the stomach flu going around."

"Oh no. Really? Detective Beckett looked. . .green."

Castle sighs. "Yeah. That's for sure."

"I hope she gets better quickly-"

"Oh, damn. Right. Monday. Honestly, if Kate's still sick, I'm hoping she'll get in to see someone. I might just drive her to the urgent care clinic myself. So our tour of the precinct might have to be rescheduled."

"Hey, honestly, that is not a problem. Take care of your muse, man."

Rick fiddles with the arm of the seat and glances towards the study doorway. "Look, I talked with Beth a little bit. Not much-"

"Yeah?"

Is Alex Conrad breathless? Castle grins to himself. This should be interesting.

"You might have better luck in person."

"Oh."

The dejection in his voice is too much; Castle can hear himself in Conrad's crazy hope. These Beckett sisters.

"I'm not saying she's a solid no. I think she's in the middle of something right now. I don't know what. And I don't think she's dating anyone. Just-"

"Life."

"Yeah, sounds like." Castle would love to say that he doesn't like to pry, but the thing is - he's pretty curious about all this. Beth looks and acts slightly more mysterious than the first time he met her. More like Kate, actually.

Ha. Funnily enough, Beth is acting a lot like Kate. Reserved.

"Hey, if we're good on Monday, and you come by the 12th, then you can come back to the loft with me for dinner. I think. . .I think Beth will still be here, and if not, I'll try to get them both to make it four."

"Oh no, no. Don't make it into like a double date-"

"Not a double date. I know Kate wants to get to know you better, and Beth will help round out the numbers. All perfectly innocent."

"Is Beth not staying with you guys?"

"Well. She's. . .uh, Kate's sister. So when Kate goes back to her own apartment-" he winces "-then I guess Beth will go too. I don't know, honestly. It sounded to me like Beth wanted to stay here, but she's just doing that to mess with Kate about. . .stuff."

Castle sighs and rubs his forehead. Complicated is what it is. Complicated when it clearly doesn't have to be. Kate should just be here. This shouldn't-

Except he's not going to push. He's not.

"Okay," Conrad says slowly. "Well, sounds like Monday is up in the air. Just text me Monday morning what it's looking like for ya-"

"Sounds like a good idea."

"Thanks, Rick. I appreciate your taking the time-"

"Hey, really. It's no problem. I kinda like imparting all my writerly wisdom."

Conrad laughs, a little too hard for Castle's taste. "No, I - sorry. I meant. For taking the time to talk to Beth about me."

Castle closes his eyes, lets the smile grow. "Yeah. Okay. I got it."

What is it about the Beckett women and novel writers?

At that moment, Kate walks through the doorway, hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. His stomach clenches; his heart flips to see her.

He hastily says good-bye to Alex, puts his laptop on the desk as Kate crosses the room. She looks smaller in his sweatshirt, the thing baggy around her shoulders, drooping from her arms; he wants to unzip it slowly and slide his hands inside.

She hasn't said a word, just takes the phone out of his hand and drops it to the desk behind her, slides into the wide armchair with him, her hips squeezed in next to his. She lays her head on his shoulder.

Kate Beckett is seriously not cuddling with him, is she?

She is.

Damn. She really must feel bad.

He wraps his arms around her, scoots over in the chair so that she can fit. Her thin hips are wedged between his and the arm of the chair; she turns into him, presses a kiss to his collarbone.

He should. . .oh, yes. "How is Beth?"

"She cut her hair."

"She what?" His brain can't function correctly when Kate's got a knee drawn up his thigh, a hand stroking his collarbone.

"She was upstairs cutting her hair. It looks good actually."

"Oh. Is that a. . .sign of something?" Castle brushes his hand up and down her back, lightly, trying not to encourage too much, trying to be good. He hasn't been able to taste her yet, her mouth, but if she tastes of toothpaste, then he'll know she threw up.

"I think she'll be okay," Kate says softly, her lips moving across his jaw, teasing him. He has to fight the urge to cradle her against his body, push his hips into hers. He wants her, of course he does, but if she's feeling sick again, he's not going to push-

"Castle-"

"Hmm?" Her mouth is open against his throat, hot and devastating.

"Take me to bed."

He wants to. So badly. But first.

Castle palms her cheek and pushes his mouth to hers, sudden and insistent, swiping his tongue around her teeth.

Toothpaste.

Damn.

He pulls back, sighs. "Upstairs bathroom?"

She presses forward. "I feel fine now. Feel much better."

"Kate-"

"Castle, don't make me ask again."

He gulps and regards her, parted lips already wet with his kiss, eyes dark with arousal. She wraps her fingers around the back of his neck, leans in close, her breasts against him.

"Rick," she murmurs, her fingers light and subtle on his skin. "Do you want me to beg?"

That's it. With an unsteady jerk, Castle wraps his arms around her and stands up, feels her legs come around his waist, her knees squeezing him tight.

"No need," he growls, taking long strides to the bedroom, thoroughly exploring her sexy, terrible mouth.

* * *

><p>She's going to hell.<p>

It will be a beautiful, sexy ride. But straight to hell it will be.

Not only did she let Castle coddle her all evening for being sick, which is as good as lying to his face, she then let him - *let* him? no, she wrapped her thighs around his waist and pressed his face against her-

She gulps in the bed, turns her head to watch him sleep. Snore. Soft snores, the cute kind, the kind he has when he's thoroughly exhausted and deeply asleep.

She bites her lip and puts a hand to her forehead, closes her eyes. Did she just. . .do that to him to make him fall asleep faster? Heavier? Or was it partly because he was so very sweet all night, and funny, and he helped bring her sister out of her funk after the whole-

Kate sucks in a breath. The pregnancy tests, the two she stole from Beth, are right there in the bathroom drawer, masquerading as toothpaste. She needs to do that, now, before she gets any deeper in this pit.

If she can walk, that is.

Good question. Her legs are boneless, her body humming with pleasure but also sore, aching. She's pretty sure she has an impression of his teeth somewhere on her inside thigh, but damn, it was worth it.

Kate rolls onto her side to watch him for a moment, the soft heaviness of his breathing, slow, steady, familiar, and also somehow so very unexpected. She never thought, in a million years, they would wind up here.

Like this. Not because of him, but because of her with him. Her.

If she's pregnant, this is it. This is all there is, all that matters. This man and his way of charming her out of those dark places, his way of recreating the world childlike and interesting again, his way of taking her ideas and making them richer, her experiences and making them deeper, her love and making it shine.

Sometimes it feels like she's the moon to his sun, reflecting a pale, luminous glow because of him, a blue light in all this darkness.

She does love him. She does. She doesn't know what to do with that love sometimes, but it's there, forceful and unwilling to compromise.

If she's pregnant, this baby will have such an amazing father-

Shit, she needs to stop being maudlin and get her ass out of his bed and just find out already.

Kate slides out from between the sheets, catches herself on the mattress with a hand when her knee buckles. Bites her lip, throws a smirk in his direction. If he only knew. . .

No. No, she's glad he doesn't know. Nothing *to* know. And she has to be sure.

Kate heads for the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Peeing on as stick is harder than she thought. And way more disgusting. She does them both at the same time, unwilling to wait. Lacking anything better to do, she shreds the boxes into little tiny pieces, shoves them at the bottom of the trash can. She washes her hands twice, determined not to be antsy, not to let herself grow anxious with waiting.<p>

Kate takes a step back into their bedroom to glance at Castle. Still sacked out, deep asleep, all the lines of his face smooth. The shadow at his jaw from the stubble. He has a daughter asleep upstairs, and he might-

No. Stop it. Stop.

Kate heads back into the bathroom, checks the time on her father's watch. She always leaves it on the counter in here by the sink, along with her mother's ring, because she's afraid she'll lose it in his loft somewhere. Those are usually the last things she takes off when she's here.

If she's pregnant, then things will have to change. Like these weekends. She can't be worrying about her father's watch and where she put it last, not if-

Roughly a minute to go. If she looked at it now, would she see the lines show up?

Horror trickles through her. She. . .tore up the boxes _and the directions_. What were the indicators supposed to be? Two lines, a positive sign? A blue line, a pink line? Oh. . .no, no. Surely she's not that stupid.

What were Beth's? One was no lines at all. But one was. . .was a pink line. Just one pink line and that meant not pregnant. The last one was a negative sign on the strip. In blue. Right? But what if one of them was a pink line for yes and a blue line for no?

Okay. Basically, if she sees two pink lines, that's it. Or if she sees all blue lines, then that's a different answer. Or. . .That's. . .

Kate presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, tries not to growl in frustration. She shoves the hair back off her forehead, holds it in place with a hand on top of her head, paces the bathroom.

She hates this. Waiting. She needs action. Getting something accomplished, not this endless anxiety-

Fifteen seconds. Her stomach rolls; Kate presses a hand to her mouth, closes her eyes. Not right now, baby.

Baby? Oh God, oh no. No-

Five seconds.

The flutter in her belly is all stomach acid; she knows this. Knows it. Can't possibly be feeling anything else right now. Her mouth is thick with saliva. She needs-

to look. Just look at it, Kate.

Man up. You're a homicide detective. Just look at the two, simple sticks.

Kate shuts her eyes one last time, gnaws the hell out of her bottom lip, and looks.

One line.

One nothing.

Not pregnant.

Her stomach revolts.

* * *

><p>Castle startles awake at the sound of retching, blinks in confusion, then winces as it comes again. The toilet flushes, water runs for a long time, and he turns onto his side to watch Kate stumble from the bathroom.<p>

She looks awful.

She crawls into bed, tears in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks; she slides right up into his arms and huddles there.

Oh God, Kate.

"Hey, I got you," he murmurs, wrapping his arms tighter around her. He cradles the back of her skull with a hand, rubs the other one up and down her side, her ribs, her spine. "It'll be okay. It'll pass, baby."

She chokes on a cry and presses her face against his neck; his worry increases, wakes him up. Rick presses anxious kisses against her cheeks, brushing away the tears. She must feel miserable, absolutely miserable. And he knows how much she hates to be out of control, weak, and this must feel like such a rebellion of her body.

"I can call someone, Kate. If you feel this bad. I know a guy, right?" He tries to make a joke, but she's wrapping her arms around his neck like she's holding on. "Kate? Sweetheart, if you feel this bad, let me take you to the emergency room-"

"N-no," she says, shaking her head against him. He can feel her every movement, she's so close. "You're - you're right. It'll pass."

He rubs his hand up and down her spine, trying to warm her up, tugs the sheets up around them. She's hot, probably from throwing up, but she's shivering at the same time.

He turns a little so that she's resting against him, his body cradling her. Rick pulls the hair back away from her face, blows out his breath along the sweat at the nape of her neck. She shivers again and sucks in a long, stuttering breath.

He hates this, hates it. She doesn't get sick, doesn't give in, doesn't let anything get to her like this. He remembers plenty of times seeing her at the precinct when she was in the middle of a chest cold, her voice low and throaty, sexy, her fingers constantly at her temples massaging away her headache, but not this. Not this.

He presses his lips into her forehead, leaves them there to gauge her temperature. Still hovering right above normal. He's had enough experience with Alexis's childhood fevers to know when it's dangerous and when it's just that spike due to throwing up.

He tries to distract her. "When Alexis was five, she caught the stomach flu from the kids at her school. She was out all week with it. All she wanted to do was curl up in my lap and have me read her stories. And then throw up, of course. I had to trash more than a couple of storybooks."

Kate huffs a little laugh against his chest, though it still sounds half like a sob, uncurls, letting her knee fall between his legs, her breath coming out on a sigh.

He brushes at her hair with his fingers, holds her. Her grip on his shirt loosens, her palm flattening against him, hot and damp.

After a few slow breaths, she says, "Did you. . .ever want more kids?"

He laughs and glances down at her. "This helping take your mind off the nausea? How're you doing by the way?"

"Still feel sick." She swallows hard; he can feel the movement against him. "You gonna answer?"

He grins and leaves his fingers in her hair, resting his palm over her ear. "Yeah. Yes. I wanted kids. But. This is what I have. I can't imagine. . .I can't ask for more." He hopes she hears the contentment in his voice, the sense of rightness. He doesn't want to chase her away with talk of kids when he's barely convinced her to sleep over on the weekends.

She sighs. "When I was a kid. . .I figured I'd have kids of my own by now. Just, how life was supposed to be."

"Natural. It's a cultural thing, drilled into all little girls. Like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty."

She nods; he brushes his fingers over her hair, smooths it back behind her ear. Her lashes cast long shadows on her cheeks. She looks sleepy.

Her voice sounds drowsy too. "When my mother died, I couldn't see having kids at all. Couldn't see how life could ever be what it was supposed to be again."

Oh. Well, he's not really prepared for this tonight. He needs better defenses in place if he's going to have to convince her that life goes on even when-

"But I don't know, Castle." She turns her head and presses a kiss to the hollow at the base of his throat; he feels the whisper of her lashes against his clavicles.

"You don't know what?"

"You do strange things to me." She gestures between them, her hand moving weakly. "Like this. I usually hate having someone watch me get sick. I should be at my apartment, curled up in the bathroom."

He laughs, partly in relief, and hugs her harder. "I know it's hard to be sick, Kate. And you don't want to have to be taken care of. But it's okay to *like* being taken care of. Let me do what I can. Let me, at least, feel better because I get to somehow help."

She sighs again, turns her head back to rest her cheek against him. He feels her eyes close, her body slumping into his.

"It's passed," she says softly. "Thank you."

He strokes his hand through her hair, again and again, his other hand on her back, rhythmic. "Anything for you, Kate."

Absolutely anything.


	7. Chapter 7

Castle wakes to a bedroom bathed in pale, timid light. Early morning. He yawns and closes his eyes again, his brain blissfully registering the warm weight of Kate, asleep and heavy against him.

She's still here, still breathing deep and even, which means she hasn't had to deal with more nausea or dizziness this morning. He's so grateful for this; he remembers the sadness leaking from her eyes last night, the helpless, vulnerable grip of her arms around his neck, and it's enough to break his heart all over again.

He moves a little, adjusts so that he can feel the whole length of her, her slim body resting against him with abandon. Kate.

The force of his love hits him unexpectedly, a boomerang coming out of nowhere, staggering. He sucks in a breath, blinks away the traitorous tears.

It scares him sometimes, how vital she's become to him, how central to his life.

He cradles her, holds her close, desperate for contact. She's so slender in his arms; he doesn't like to think about how fragile she really is, how little it would take to break her. But that's what last night did to him. Made him think.

He's going to have to ask her again, isn't her? Ask her to move in with him.

He knows that he promised himself to step back, promised that he wouldn't push, but he can't –

He needs her.

It's that simple. The terrifying, simple, naked truth.

He needs Kate Beckett in his kitchen, Kate Beckett in his living room, Kate Beckett in his bed. And not just two days a week. Not just half the week.

His need is acute, compelling, uncompromising.

He needs her _always._

And she has to know by now, doesn't she? It's been a year, a year of telling her that he loves her, a year of *not* pressuring her into moving in, a year of containing himself for fear of making her run.

Only, there's no containing anything anymore. His love is too bright, too strong; it pushes out from within, demanding to be let out.

Castle smirks. Last night...Last night was definitely about letting it out. He closes his eyes in delight, remembers the press of Kate's knees against his back, her smooth, burning hot skin, her tongue –

Ah, how quickly he wants her again. It springs from some unknown place inside him, rushes through his veins, dark and intense and overpowering.

But he's not going to move, not going to wake her, not going to do anything about it. He rests his lips to her temple, breathes in the sleepy smell of her, and lets it quiet the desire singing in his blood, tone it down to a murmur.

His love.

* * *

><p>She wakes suddenly, her stomach in her throat, too hot.<p>

She groans, feels Castle's arms tighten, struggles away from him.

Kate crawls out of the bed and stumbles for the bathroom, angry and sick and hating this, going to her knees in front of the bowl.

Castle comes in behind her after she flushes the toilet. She doesn't even care. When he brushes her hair back and awkwardly puts it into a ponytail with a rubberband, she closes her eyes, her cheek resting against the toilet seat.

"How you feel?"

She swallows, her throat burning, shakes her head.

He runs water in the glass he always leaves out by the sink, hands it to her. She takes a grateful sip and swishes it around in her mouth, spits it out in the toilet bowl.

She rolls away and puts her back against the wall, lifts her eyes to him. "Thanks. Little bit better."

"You wanna stay in bed today, or camp out on the couch and hang out with us?"

Kate wants to curl up in bed and cry for a little while, but that's ridiculous and wouldn't help a thing. Maybe if she spent the day with Beth and Alexis distracting her, Castle trying lamely to cheer her up - maybe that would help.

"I'm gonna kill Ryan," she mutters, sighing, pressing her hand to her forehead.

Castle laughs. "You sound better already."

"Couch, then." Kate holds out both hands to him, and he lifts her to her feet. "I think the worst of it was last night."

"Did you throw up again after I fell asleep?"

She presses her lips together and nods, then leans into him. She hasn't managed to keep anything down and her body feels the lack of calories; her limbs shake.

"You should've woken me-"

"No point. Someone needed to get some sleep." She lowers her head to his shoulder, breathes slowly in through her nose. Her stomach is still not quite right, but the overwhelming nausea has abated. She feels better after getting it out of her system.

"Let's get you out to the couch, okay? The Castle house has special sick day protocol that we need to implement-"

"You gonna let me crawl in your lap and read me stories? I promise not to throw up on the book."

He laughs at her attempt at humor, brings his arms around her, cradles the back of her skull. It feels good; her bones are melting into him. He's good at this, at letting her be, at pushing when she needs to be pushed, at standing still and letting her lean on him.

"I can do that. Any story you like, Kate."

She draws her arms up against her chest, against his, her fingers at his collar, closes her eyes. "Just. . .stay here for a minute more."

He makes a sound in his throat, and she knows she's worrying him, but she's too worn out to care.

* * *

><p>Alexis peeks in on Beth, but she's still asleep. From what she remembers, Kate's sister is a champion sleeper, can waste the whole day away. Of course, she's probably still jet-lagged too, so Alexis won't try to wake her.<p>

She shuts the door and turns around in the connecting bathroom, flicks the light on. Her hair is mashed flat on one side and her lips are chapped. Alexis leans in against the mirror and picks at the spot on her chin, wrinkling her nose at her reflection. Her toes curl against the cold tile.

Alexis pulls open the bathroom drawer and roots around for hair clips and chapstick. She took a shower last night and went to bed with wet hair sometime around two in the morning. After she and Beth had spent most of that time styling Beth's new haircut and trying on clothes. And talking about Ashley and his sudden special date (which lasted about five hours and was the most wonderful time. . .)

Alexis scrubs at her eyes and squints down at the drawer; she can't find anything in the jumble. She grabs a handful of make-up and junk, drops it all on the counter, searching through the mess for something to pull back her hair. Her dad has been stealing her rubber bands lately, keeping them downstairs in his room or in his pocket. For Kate. Which is kinda cute, but also annoying.

She pushes aside a bottle of concealer and something rolls away, drops off the edge of the counter.

Darn. Ew. It fell in the trashcan.

Alexis debates leaving it there, but it might be her chapstick, since it rolled. She crouches down, pulls the can towards her.

She uses two fingers and wrinkles her nose, paws past the kleenex and stuff. If it's heavy, it went to the bottom, so she leans in closer and-

What is this? What-

Alexis pulls out pieces of cardboard, a box, two boxes, pregnancy tests.

Pregnancy tests? Beth. Beth is-

Alexis spots the stick, partially wrapped in toilet paper. But she's not going to touch it to find out.

* * *

><p>"Kate? Kate!"<p>

Castle hears his daughter clattering down the stairs and looks up in consternation. Kate has lifted her head from the pillow on the couch and has raised up a little, her face concerned.

Since he's just off the kitchen, bringing Kate some gatorade he found in the pantry, he sees Alexis, but she doesn't see him.

"Kate. The pregnancy test-"

Castle's chest clenches.

His daughter took a pregnancy test?

And Kate *knew* about it?

"Did Beth tell you-?"

*Beth* knew?

Alexis glances up when the gatorade slips from his fingers; Kate turns to see him. Her face washes out and she raises a hand to her mouth, closes her eyes.

"Uh. . ." Alexis drops her hand and backs up, hiding the box from her father.

Castle steps forward. "Someone want to tell me what's going on here? Because I'm jumping to all the wrong conclusions."

"Dad!"

"Rick-"

He holds out a hand to Alexis; she hands it over sullenly. Two flattened boxes. Pregnancy tests. Upstairs bathroom. His daughter. . .

"I found them," Alexis says quietly. "Sorry, Kate. Is this what you guys were doing while I went out with Ashely yesterday?"

Castle looks at Kate, surprised at how this hurts him. It's not really his business though, is it? And her hiding Beth's. . .trouble from him is just an awkward, painful reminder that they don't live together, they don't share a life, not really. Kate's just. . .her own person. And her family issues are still *her* family issues.

"It's not mine to tell," she says finally, pressing a hand to her forehead, dropping her cheek to the back of the couch.

His hurt washes away; Castle steps closer and drops a hand to her hair, tugging gently on her pony tail. She doesn't feel good, she didn't get any sleep last night, and he's upset? How mature, Castle. Be the man she needs you to be.

"Well, great," a voice drawls from the stairs. "Looks like you were right, sis. Can't keep anything from the Castles."

Alexis flushes scarlet and turns around; Castle lifts his head and sees Beth on the stairs, still in hot pink pajama pants and a turquoise top, her face less amused than her voice sounds.

"I'm sorry, Beth," Kate says tiredly from beside him.

He looks down at her, pale and apologetic on the couch, and it hits him.

What Kate's stomach flu reminds him of. What's been niggling at him all along, demanding his attention.

Morning sickness.

_Kate?_

* * *

><p>Beth sees Castle looking at Kate with a question in his eyes, the ghost of realization hovering over his head, and the need to protect her sister is stronger than her own – unusual – wish for privacy.<p>

Beth did some thinking of her own last night. The look on Kate's face when she told Beth the test was negative; the so-called stomach bug; the way Kate's eyes shimmered when her sister told her she'd make a wonderful mom...

How her hand went to her stomach at the mention of Castle babies.

Yeah. Those things all seem to be hinting at the same conclusion.

But Beth will not spill her sister's secrets, whatever they may be. And when she catches that struck look on Castle's face, she steps forward, hops down the stairs to distract him, steal the spotlight back.

"Not your fault," she tells Kate, who's still staring at her with a desolate expression. "Don't worry about it. And I'm sorry," she adds for the Castles, meeting father and daughter's identical blue eyes. "I didn't mean to keep you guys out of this."

Beth is no fool; she sees the hurt in Alexis's posture, the carefulness in her guarded face, the way Castle keeps glancing back at Kate like a puppy that's been kicked out of the bedroom.

Those two have welcomed her into their home, made her feel like one of their own, and she should have been more straightforward. Should have been honest.

It's like Kate is rubbing off on her, she thinks briefly with an inner smile, this secrecy stuff.

"The thing is," she says slowly, plopping herself on the couch and gesturing for Alexis to join her. The girl does, after a second of hesitation, and cradles her knees to her chest. "When I was in Mbarara, I met this guy. His name doesn't really matter, but he was fun and nice, and I – I fell in love with him. And it looked like he was in love with me too. So we got together, dated for about four months, and then it turned out he was married."

Alexis gasps, and she grabs Beth's hand, squeezes. Beth gives her a small smile to say that she's okay. Yes, when said like that, it sounds kind of terrible, but – she's okay now. Or she will be.

The indignation and sadness in the teenager's eyes are a little too much, so Beth averts her gaze, turns it to Castle instead. Understanding has washed over the writer's face, tinted with sorrow.

Well. Now he knows why she's not exactly enthusiastic about Alex Conrad.

"So, uh. Yeah. This is why I came home early. There wasn't really...a reason to stay."

To put it mildly.

"I'm so sorry," Alexis exclaims, shaking her head like she can't believe anyone could do such a thing. "I – Beth. And here I was going on and on about Ashley, and –"

"Hey, now. Alexis. Stop. Don't do this." Beth presses the girl's hand between her palms, searches her eyes. "I *want* to hear about Ashley, okay? I don't want you to treat me any different. It's just – it's just bad luck, okay? It'll pass."

"But if you're pregnant, he should –" Castle starts, and she can hear the anger at the back of his voice, the rage directed at Jasper because Rick Castle is a good man who would never, never, let down the woman carrying his child.

And against all reason, the need to defend Jasper surges inside Beth, strong and a little overwhelming.

"I'm not pregnant," she says quickly, unable to resist. She stares into Castle's eyes. "I'm not pregnant," she repeats softly. "I...thought I might be, and I never – never told him."

It's obvious in the writer's face that it doesn't make Jasper a much better man in his eyes, but at least he accepts her explanation and drops it.

"But I'm not," Beth says one more time, as if she's trying to convince herself (maybe she is). "So, see? No harm done," she jokes feebly, gathering a smile.

Castle gives her a pained, slightly reproachful look, a look echoed in Kate's tone when she lets out a soft, "Beth."

Ah. Beth feels tears tremble in her throat, caused partly by the way they all seem to be aching for her. She can't pretend it was nothing when they're all so obviously sharing her pain, can she?

She drops her eyes to the floor, bites her lip in an attempt to steady herself.

It's not working so well.

"Group hug," Castle says decidedly, and before she knows what's happening Beth finds herself wrapped in his embrace, strong arms and comforting smell; and then Alexis's slender arm comes around her waist, and Kate's lips rest against her temple, her fingers coming out to smooth Beth's hair.

Oh. This is – this is really nice.

Beth sucks in a startled breath, closes her eyes and rests her forehead against Castle's shirt. "I should have told you guys before," she whispers when her heartbeat has settled down. "I'm sorry."

"No," Rick opposes gently. "You don't owe us anything, Beth. You don't *have* to tell us anything. I'm glad that you did, that you feel comfortable enough with us to share this –" Alexis hums her agreement "– but there are no rules here, okay? We love you no matter what."

Beth's heart is so tight she wonders that it can still pump blood and everything.

"Family," Castle adds in a murmur.

Oh, God. Kate needs to marry the guy already.

"Family," Beth echoes faintly, smiling even through her blurry eyes.

She feels warm and safe and loved, and for the first time in years, she doesn't want to move.

She doesn't want to move.

* * *

><p>Kate aches all over. Every bone feels bruised and hollowed out. She wishes, suddenly, to be back in her own apartment, but that's only because every few minutes, the overwhelming need to cry burns in her throat. So fierce, so sudden that she can't talk, can't breathe, can only blink rapidly and stare at the television.<p>

But at home, she wouldn't have this. Castle is a great human body pillow. She lays soporifically against his chest as he half-reclines against one end of the couch, a blanket thrown over her legs, his arm loose around her back, his feet on the floor. His palm lays flat against her spine, sometimes drawing slowly up and down, sometimes at rest.

She wouldn't have all four seasons of The O.C. lined up in front of the blu ray player and Alexis Castle to change the discs when they're done. Kate loves this show like she loves Temptation Lane, all guilty pleasure and quick wit and overwrought storylines that might actually be excuse enough to cry.

If she were Beth maybe. But Kate Beckett doesn't cry at television shows, does she? So she clears her throat to get rid of the burn and tries to forget herself. She doesn't even know why she's so weepy, except that she didn't sleep all night, she's so tired she can't stand up, Beth is clearly soldiering on despite being rather broken-hearted, and oh yeah-

Kate went through the whole ordeal of panicking over some unknown, potentially life-changing thing. That never came about.

She's not. _I'm not._

It's fine.

Kate ignores Seth Cohen's explanation of Chrismakkuh and presses her hand into her eye socket, pushes until the lights flash behind her lids and the urge to sob passes.

She's fine. There's nothing wrong.

Castle shifts under her, his hand curling around her neck, his lips brushing her temple. "You okay?" he says softly, his voice lost in her hair.

She nods. She can't have him going all mushy on her. Not now. Just. . .keep it together, Kate.

"Feel bad?"

She nods again. This is more than bad, this is miserable. The gatorade and the taste of stomach acid have fused in her mouth; her eyes keep leaking tears; and she can't stop thinking about stupid things that never happened, didn't exist, weren't real.

Castle puts another arm around her, sits up a little bit, his fingers curling gently around her waist, rubbing against her stomach. She shifts in his embrace, drawing away from that touch, those fingers on her stomach, her face pressed against his tshirt.

She feels Beth touch the side of her leg, squeeze her knee. Kate opens her eyes and glances down the couch at her sister. Oh God. . .she knows. How does she know?

Alexis isn't oblivious either. Or else she's just really sympathetic to Kate's bout of stomach flu, or still caught up in Beth's story of loss. That could be it. The girl is giving Beth timid and empathetic eyes every few seconds, leaning her head against Beth's shoulder. Yes, the sympathy is for Beth alone. The two laugh quietly at the good parts of Seth's dry wit, and Beth is looking better. Less startled. More at home.

Good.

Kate realizes she's been spralwed out, lifeless, for awhile now and starts to feel bad for taking up all the room, tries to draw up her feet, bring herself back to reality. Beth shifts over a little, leaning against Kate's legs; Alexis comes with her. Castle drops an arm down to her thigh, pulls her into a smaller ball against him. She takes a shaky breath, feels a little more in control of herself.

Castle turns his head and presses his lips to her cheek, trails to her mouth, gentle and unassuming. She breaks away from him, pulling back. "I'm sick. I don't want you to get it."

A flicker goes across his face, something she doesn't understand but he's already shaking his head at her. "I'm fine. I can't catch it."

"You don't know-"

"I suffered through so many of Alexis's stomach flus, there's no way I'll get this one, Kate. Plus Ryan spread it around pretty good. If I haven't caught it already, I probably won't."

He leans in and brushes his mouth against her lips, asking something she doesn't understand. His tongue explores cautiously, lightly, and disappears. His kiss is gentling, soothing, a trail of kisses up the bridge of her nose and into her hairline. She closes her eyes, lets him.

Her arm against her chest, hand curled under her chin, she rests against Castle, feeling his every breath, his every heart beat. Slouched down in the couch for her, his back will hurt him all night, but she won't be able to force him to move, will she? He'll stick it out right here. Because he loves her more than. . .more than his own comfort, his own good night's sleep, his own. . .self.

And that doesn't sit right with her - the lack of boundaries on his love, the lack of smart fences, clear lines of territory. She has to suppress the instinct to detach.

Last night, she was ready to have his kid. Today, she keeps having to fight against the urge to crawl off alone somewhere and sob herself to sleep.

What is going on with her? What is she doing with him?

Other than using him. As a body pillow.

* * *

><p>As much as Castle is enjoying the lazy Sunday hanging out in the living-room, family all thrown together, watching episodes of tv on dvd and talking and laughing (he likes to think that every time Beth laughs, honestly laughs, she heals a little bit, pieces of her glow put back together until she can shine brighter than before) – as much as he enjoys it, part of him is still restless, stil throbbing with doubt and anxious foreboding, his mind feverishly going from one piece of evidence to the next, repeatedly flashing the obvious conclusion at him.<p>

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.

The morning sickness. How picky she was with the food two nights ago, the pizza good and then not good enough. And she looked so tired all week.

And –

Oh God. Oh God. Last night. His heart stops just to think of it.

She asked if he wanted more kids.

Oh, Kate.

She must suspect it then. He doesn't think she knows for sure, doesn't want to believe that she could keep something this big from him, but she *must* have an idea.

Underneath the shock and disbelief, excitement rears its head, tickling at his insides. His brain (so *not* helpful) provides him with dream-like pictures: Kate with a hand resting on her round belly, joy pouring from her dark eyes as she looks at him; Kate's fingers squeezing his as they get to hear their child's heartbeat for the first time, boy or girl; Kate holding their child, the tiny baby hand wrapping around his index finger –

Oh, stop, _stop_. He needs to stop.

He sucks in a ragged breath, powerless to stop the frenzy of visions, each one more appealing, more desirable than the last.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

He snaps out of it; his daughter is staring at him from her comfortable-looking spot on the couch, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah. Yep. Peachy. Awesome. Do you – do any of you want something to drink? More tea, coffee, hot chocolate?"

He untangles himself from Kate, jumps to his feet, tries to ignore the vaguely concerned look that Kate is giving him, the amusement dancing in Beth's eyes.

"Hot chocolate would be nice," Kate ends up saying, and she tilts her head, her eyes thoughtful but soft, grateful. "Thank you."

Alexis declines his offer, but Beth seconds her sister's choice. Two hot chocolates it is.

Castle moves to the kitchen, incredibly relieved at having something to do, his hands busy with cups and milk and sugar and his mind blissfully quiet. But it doesn't take that long until the two cups are ready, and he stirs them gently, unwilling to go back and sit down.

He knows that the moment he glances at Kate, it will be like the crazy pregnancy channel has been switched on again in his brain. He's so not looking forward to this.

His wrist stings; he looks down, realizes he's been stirring with a little too much enthusiasm. He licks the hot chocolate from his skin, grabs a paper towel to wipe the rest off, then crumples it and throws it in the bin.

He catches a glimpse of white and pink, freezes.

Right. Beth's pregnancy test.

Alexis said they probably went out yesterday to buy them – oh. He remembers with blinding clarity coming into the lobby with Alex Conrad, trying to surprise Kate. What an idiot. But he understands her reaction better now: she was probably extra nervous, carrying pregnancy tests around. Not that she didn't have enough reason to twist his arm as it was.

An idea nudges at him, vague and somewhat hazy, shaping up slowly. If she and Beth went out to buy tests yesterday –

Wouldn't Kate have bought one for herself? His cautious Kate, always one to think ahead, plan everything. If she thought...

His throat is dry; breathing suddenly hurts.

He needs to get to their bathroom. If she bought a – if she took it – without –

He bolts out of the kitchen.

"Castle?"

Kate's eyes, wide and concerned, pin him to the spot. Damn. Why can't he resist her?

"Right. Hot chocolate. Sorry, I was...going to the bathroom."

He retreats hastily to the kitchen, but he must have looked so completely crazy that Kate gets up and joins him, puts a hand to his shoulder.

"Rick."

His body turns to her like a sunflower to the sun, whether he wants it or not.

"What's wrong?" She asks, her voice caressing, so gentle. He looks into her dark, soulful eyes, looks at this face he loves, the high cheekbones, the alluring mouth, the angle of the jaw. Kate Beckett.

She wouldn't lie to him. She wouldn't hide that from him. He breathes easier, curls an arm around her shoulders to bring her against him.

"Nothing," he says, breathing her in, nuzzling her temple and kissing her cheek lightly. "Nothing's wrong."

"You sure?" She draws back to look at him, assess his truthfulness.

But he's confident now; there's nothing for her to see. She smiles, walks past him to get the two cups.

"Go to the bathroom, then, Castle," she says, giving him a teasing glance. "It seemed to be pretty...urgent."

And she goes back to the living room with the hot chocolate, leaving him torn in her wake.

He trusts her; he really does believe that she wouldn't –

But she's giving him that chance, the chance to make sure that everything's alright, and he's always been so curious and he just can't, can't help it.

He goes to the bathroom.

* * *

><p>She shuffles back to the couch with the hot chocolate, keeping the taste on her tongue for a moment before swallowing slowly. The gatorade has stayed down so far, and hot chocolate sounds heavenly. The taste on her tongue, however, isn't quite what it should be.<p>

Kate sets her mug on a coaster on the coffee table, reclaims Castle's spot in the corner. Alexis has moved to the floor; Beth has her feet on the girl's back and is pushing with her toes. Alexis groans on her laughter every once in awhile, Beth smirking above her.

Kate feels uneasy. The air is wrong; her cop instinct is kicking in and she can't figure out why.

Maybe it's the resurgent queasiness in her stomach. She doesn't take any more sips of hot chocolate, lets the tv show wash over her, muffle her clamoring heart.

Castle is still in the bathroom.

Oh no. Is he sick?

She sits up suddenly and a wash of dizziness spirals her, drawing her backward, down, like a magnet. She can't fight it, falls back to the sofa, heart thumping against her ribs.

Surely if he gets sick, he'll call for her. Right? This is Castle. He can't get a papercut without issuing a proclamation and sending out a search party for the perfect band-aid. She keeps a box of transformers band-aids in her top drawer for that reason. The top drawer that's now his, for all intents and purposes.

If he's sick, he'll want her. Won't he?

Or will he suffer alone because he doesn't want her to know, because she's sick herself?

Kate sighs, lets her lips curl into a small smile. That's more her style, not really his. If he's sick, she'll know soon enough.

Oh, actually. He could be writing. She's seen him get that same look on his face - an idea, a really good idea - and he'll run to the laptop and start typing away, quick-fingered, his face half-frozen in fervor. It's cute that he didn't want to tell her and look like he was being a bad partner, leaving her alone while she's sick.

Kate smiles to herself, curls a little tighter into the residual warmth leftover from his long, thick body. She lets her eyes close again, feels sleep tugging at her.

She does love him. She loves him and she doesn't ever want to be sick on her own, alone in her cold and empty apartment ever again.

She likes her large, human body pillow. Loves. And his eye-crinkling smile. And the way his hand fits around the back of her head. The way his body cradles hers, either in comfort or passion. She loves how much he tries, how much he puts into it, how his enthusiasm transforms everyone around him.

He's a good father. He protects his daughter, wants not just the best for her, but also character, morals. He would pass on his sense of fun and his sense of right and wrong, his decency and compassion. Their kid would learn to laugh like him, stay in the sunlight like he does, know how to be happy. And if one day she didn't come home, she knows that Castle will make it okay for their little family-

No.

She presses her a shaky hand over her eyes, tries to crush that thought. Tries to just not think anymore.

There is *no* baby. No baby. No little family.

It doesn't exist.

She presses harder, her face against the couch.

Her palm is wet with tears.

* * *

><p>He feels ashamed and filthy as he goes through her meager stuff, make-up and toothpaste and cleansing wipes, shelves, drawers.<p>

Nothing.

This is wrong. _Wrong._

Go back to the living-room, Rick Castle.

His eyes stop on the trashcan.

No.

But yes. He squats down, wrinkles his nose as he grabs the plastic bag to peer at its contents. He sees tiny, tiny scraps of paper, something that's been torn into so many pieces that it's impossible to put it back together. His heart lurches.

He ventures a reluctant hand, pushes aside the little pieces, and he founds what he's been looking for. The end of a familiar-looking stick, the rest wrapped in toilet paper. He fishes it out, uncurls the paper so that he can look at the results.

One line. Shit. He thought they only did the negative or positive signs nowadays. What does one line mean?

If he had to guess, he'd say not pregnant, but... He looks at the trashcan again, and his eye catches on another hump of toilet paper, thicker than the one he just undid. Nervous, a little eager, he grabs the thing, his fingers shaking.

This time he tears through the toilet paper, unable to wait any longer.

The stick jumps out of his hand, clatters on the tile; he launches himself after it like a junkie going after his fix.

He looks at it, frowns, looks harder.

Not pregnant.

Air whooshes out of his lungs and he rests his forehead against the cool tiles, stretched out on his bathroom floor, pathetic.

She's not pregnant.

Just a bad case of stomach flu. Or a bug. Something.

Not a baby.

So this is why she's told him nothing.

It makes sense. Doesn't keep it from hurting like hell, but it makes sense. He remembers her crawling back into bed last night, miserable and upset and a little clingy, and it makes sense.

Did Kate want that baby?

He's breathless with the thought.

Water drips on his hand and he looks up at the tap, but it's not running; he realizes that it's coming from him, that he's crying. His fingertips brush his cheek, find it wet.

Oh, Kate.

She took this test last night when he was asleep, and she was alone and scared, surely, but determined like only she can be, and she found out, and she didn't tell him *anything*.

She didn't say a word.

His shoulders shake and he's not sure who he's crying for, her or himself, or that baby that was only a ghost, a fantasy, never real. How much he wanted that child. It shouldn't surprise him, but it does, the swell of need, the sharp, stinging feeling of loss.

You didn't lose anything, Rick, he tells himself stubbornly. There was never anything to lose.

But it sure doesn't feel that way.


	8. Chapter 8

**Stop Haunting Me**

by **Sandiane Carter** and **chezchuckles**

* * *

><p>When Alexis pauses the DVD to take a call from Ashley, and disappears upstairs for more privacy, Beth shuffles closer to her sister, kneels on the floor in front of her. Kate looks like she's sleeping, but her eyes are a little puffy, her cheeks pale and streaked with dried tears.<p>

Beth isn't fooled by the peaceful, even breathing.

"Kate?"

The dark lashes flutter; Kate's eyes open slowly, focus on her. Okay, so maybe she really was dozing.

Beth doesn't want to startle her sister, but at the same time, the Castles might be back at any minute (she doesn't know what Rick is up to, but he's been gone for some time now). And she really, really wants to know what's going on with Kate.

"You took the two remaining tests," she observes quietly. Not a question.

Her sister's eyes close briefly in acknowledgement, and a hint of guilt, maybe. Beth's heart beats harder, anxious and wild against her ribs.

"Are you...?"

The look on Kate's face stops her before she finishes the sentence, dark determination plastered over the disappointment shining deep in her eyes. Kate shakes her head.

"No. No."

"You sure?"

Beth immediately hates herself for this, for the flash of pain that crosses her sister's features, the glittering of tears. Of course she's sure. This is Kate Beckett, the woman who made her take three different pregnancy tests before she accepted the results.

Kate nods, short and stiff. Just once.

Yes, she is sure.

Beth sighs and pulls her sister in an embrace, her insistance overcoming Kate's resistance quickly enough. It's a little awkward, with Kate still curled up on the couch and Beth on her knees next to her, but then the detective sighs into Beth's neck and any sort of awkwardness vanishes.

"Kate."

Her sister's breath stutters; Beth considers the implications of her distress, blinks in disbelief.

"Did you – want that baby?"

Unexpected. So very unexpected. But Kate's always been like this, unpredictable.

"No," Kate breathes out, sounding hurt and confused and unsure. "But – I..."

Her voice trails off, but she doesn't really need to explain.

"You really thought you *were* pregnant."

A tiny nod. Ah, Katie.

"It's stupid. Stupid. I know."

She sounds so mad at herself.

"Oh, Katie, it's not." Beth rubs a hand up and down her sister's arm. "It's not stupid."

Or if it is, well, they both are.

"So...I'm guessing Rick knows nothing of this?"

"There's nothing to know."

Kate's eyes meet hers, dark and fierce, burning. She's not going to change her mind on this one, no matter what Beth might say. The younger woman sees that, reluctantly accepts it, because there's nothing else to do in the face of such conviction, such drive.

"Okay."

Who is she to judge, anyway? She didn't tell Jasper anything before she jumped into a plane, ran off to New York City.

But Rick isn't Jasper, her brain argues stubbornly.

Whatever. This is Kate's call. She's not interfering, not this time.

Beth steals Castle's end of the couch, settling down next to her sister and pulling Kate's head into her lap. Kate lets her, which says a lot about how miserable she really feels, and Beth runs her fingers through the long, dark locks, lightly massaging the back of her head, of her neck.

Like their mother used to do.

Kate sighs, curls up into a tighter ball, and closes her eyes.

Beth's hand keeps drawing intricate patterns on her sister's skin long after Kate has drifted off to sleep, her eyes never leaving the harmonious lines of Kate's profile, her mind painting the portrait of a little girl with those same long lashes, with that same beautiful mouth.

She sighs.

Life sucks.

* * *

><p>Rick realizes he's been in the bathroom for too long now, but he needs-<p>

Something.

He carefully wraps everything in the plastic bag and shoves it back into the trash, washes his hands and avoids looking at himself in the mirror. He wipes at his eyes, rubs a towel over his face.

He leaves the bedroom and steps into his study and can't-

can't bring himself to go back out there. Not just yet. He needs to be more settled; he needs to be calm. No, he needs to be himself. Kate will never say a word about this, and he knows it's for the best. At least for her sake.

He needs to be better than this. For Kate. Because clearly, she is just not ready for this level of. . .together.

Rick opens his laptop and settles into the chair in front of his desk, waits for it to wake up. His fingers are already hovering over the keyboard, ready. He opens a blank document and starts writing.

At first, all he can write about is Alexis as a baby, the way her small body fit down the length of his forearm, how he carried her like a football all around the apartment and named everything for her, from the pigeons on the windowsills to the cow jumping over the moon in the crib mobile. How her tiny attention never wavered from his face. How she absorbed the world.

And then it shifts, and it's not Alexis he's writing about any longer. The baby he describes has dark hair, a thinner face, those same cheekbones. He has no name for it, no real identity, just a presence, a haunting outline of small limbs and the phantom of warmth against his chest.

He writes, and he holds the thing close to him, outside his skin, smelling warm baths and johnson's baby shampoo, little fingers curling against his chest, little nails that need cutting, small mouth open against him, breastmilk and rice cereal. Inside, everything is breaking.

From the pieces, he writes Kate. His partner, his wife, his love - Kate in the big chair in front of the window, her knees up, the baby against her thighs, smiling into the answering smile. Kate's hair falling into her eyes as she leans forward over the bassinet, a long curtain that makes them the only two in the world. Kate's cheek to the top of a round, little head, her long and lithe fingers spread across the curled back, swaying as she steps lightly down the hall.

Everything falls apart.

He writes less, falls silent on the keys. Watches the winter birds dart across the window's expanse of sky.

His fingers are cold.

A break in the grey clouds, a bird that wheels suddenly, the presence of the wind not felt or heard, not even seen at first, but then the clouds are chased across the sky, the sun filters through, spreads a weak and yellow light across the study.

Not today. Not tomorrow.

But.

But maybe. . .some day.

He quits the document without saving it, stares at the laptop for a minute, then closes it. Unrecoverable now.

But no need.

He's going to ask her to move in with him. No. He's not going to ask. He's going to head over to her apartment while Beth watches over her, pack her a suitcase, and make her stay. He won't ask any more. He'll just move her in, piece by piece.

He can make her happy. He *does* make her happy. He should be out there right now, making her happy.

He sets the laptop aside and gets to his feet, hears his back pop in protest, stretches his arms over his head as if coming awake from a long sleep.

* * *

><p>When he gets to the living room, he sees that Alexis has abandoned them and Beth is sitting in his spot, Kate's head in her lap. Her sister looks up at him, a drifting sorrow in her eyes that gets him, right at that tender spot that's not a wound but maybe a bone-deep bruise, and he squats down next to the couch and glances at Kate.<p>

She's asleep, her body curled up tight, looks like she's been crying. He reaches out and strokes a finger over her cheek.

"She didn't get a lot of sleep last night," he says, as if he feels the need to make Kate's excuses.

"I figured," Beth says softly.

"I'll just carry her in to bed," he answers, lifting his eyes to Beth. He feels like he needs permission.

"Good idea. I'm gonna go hassle Alexis. She's been on the phone with Ashley for an hour. And the dvd stopped ages ago."

Castle nods and slides his arms under Kate, one around her neck, the other under her knees, and picks her up, his back protesting again as he gets his feet under him. She's not light - she is nearly as tall as he is - but her body is slight against his chest, her lines long and warm.

"Thanks Beth. If you need anything-"

"I know where to find you."

"I have an errand I need to run. While Kate's asleep. If you don't mind looking out for her?"

"What kind of errand?" Beth says, narrowing her eyes at him.

"The good kind. I want to grab some stuff from her apartment. I can't imagine she'll go to work on Monday, and there's no way I'm letting her go back there. She's staying here."

"She is, is she?" Beth stands up from the couch, watching him with a little smile playing at her lips. A Beckett.

His arms are starting to feel it; his shoulders are being pulled. "She is," he affirms. "For good."

He turns and heads for the bedroom - their bedroom now - and presses a kiss to Kate's temple.

"I think that's a good idea, Castle," Beth calls out. "This is probably the best time to get promises out of her."

He twists a little to see her, wondering at that. The thing is, she's most likely right. After this. . .surely Kate won't resist moving in with him. "What do you mean?"

Beth smiles that enigmatic Beckett smile and shrugs. "Just. When she's sick. More likely to agree with you."

Right. Yes. Because she's sick. He nods but gives Beth his own smile back. "She doesn't have to agree with me. It's happening anyway. Whether she likes it or not."

He's followed by the sound of Beth's laughter, real and delighted, echoing down the hall.

* * *

><p>Beth goes upstairs to check on Alexis, discovers the girl isn't on the phone with Ashley, but is studying, has been since her friend Julie called to ask if Alexis had the solution to one of their chemistry problems. Beth smirks a little when she sees the horrified look on the girl's face, the shocked gasp.<p>

"I forgot our chemistry assignment," she exclaims, a hand covering her rounded mouth.

Interesting, how very responsible and mature Alexis is, especially considering Castle himself. Beth thinks a friend like Alexis would have been good for her in high school. Hell, it's good for her now.

She pulls the door back, leaving it ajar because she knows the teenager doesn't like closed rooms, and slowly walks back to the stairs, wondering what she's going to do. Kate is still sleeping in Castle's bed – *her* bed now – and Beth has every intention of letting her sister get all the rest she needs.

Which leaves her with nothing to do.

Oh. She'll take a look at Castle's fridge, see if she can cook something for their dinner. And if she can't find an original idea, well, there's always takeout.

Pleased with her plan, Beth hops down the stairs, heads for the kitchen; but the doorbell ringing stops her. She glances around: Alexis clearly hasn't heard that, or has no time for it, and Kate... Kate had better be asleep.

Okay. Beth can answer the door. Nothing awkward to it. She *is* like family, isn't she? That's what Rick said.

She puts a smile on her face, turns the handle. Her smile falters a little when she recognizes the person standing in front of her.

Alex Conrad.

He looks just as surprised as she is; his blue eyes widen, his lips parting slightly. She can't help but notice, from a purely scientific point of view, that he really is quite handsome.

No. She will not go down that path again.

"Can I help you?" She asks, not unkindly, but trying to tone down her flirty nature.

"Ah – uh – yes, yeah, I was, here to see Mr. Castle, Rick." He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously trying to calm down.

A smile sneaks its way across Beth's lips. Okay, the man is kinda cute.

"I'm sorry," he says, opening his eyes again, more relaxed, smiling a little. "Let's do that again, yeah? I'm here to see Rick. I have a couple of important questions to ask him, plot-wise. I wouldn't impose, but I was in the neighborhood, and I thought...I tried to call him, but he didn't answer, and so – here I am."

He tilts his head, his brow knitting like he's examining his own speech again.

"I'm not doing very well, am I? I should – probably just go," he muses, lips twisted in a self-deprecating grimace. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time."

And he turns in front of Beth's bemused eyes, starts walking towards the elevator.

"So I don't get a say in this?" She says before he can get any further, her voice clear and tinted with humor. "You just show up here, talk yourself into leaving, and go? You're a strange person, Alex Conrad," she points out laughingly, leaning back against the door and folding her arms across her chest.

Alex turns back towards her, a little shocked, a lot amused, if his face is anything to go by.

"I've been told that a couple times, actually. It seems like human relations are not exactly my forte."

"That must be quite an issue for a writer."

"Ah, see, that's the funny thing. On paper, I usually get it right. In person, however..."

He shakes his head in pretend desolation. A laugh trembles out of Beth; her hand goes to her mouth as if she could put it back in, but it's too late. Alex is looking at her like he's just seen the Virgin Mary.

She lets out an inward sigh.

"Rick isn't here at the moment," she says, uncertain of the reaction she wants him to have to that. But his shoulders slump a little, like he's lost his sole excuse to be here, talking to her, and that strikes a warm feeling inside Beth.

It's not even anything romantic; he just looks so young, so hesitant. It makes her want to tease him, but also sparks this tender thing in her chest, this desire to help him, nudge him into the right direction.

"He'll be back soon, I think," she adds at last, taking pity on him. "Wanna come in and wait for him?"

He looks up at her, undecided. "No," he says slowly, like he's trying to convince himself. "No, I don't want to bother you – I'm sure you have better things to do –"

"To be honest, no, not really. Kate's asleep and Alexis is studying, and I was in the process of making dinner. But considering my tragic lack of culinary abilities, you might be doing us all a favor if you keep me away from the kitchen."

Conrad laughs – an honest, nice-sounding laugh, not one of these fake things people do to acknowledge your attempts at humor.

"You sure?" He asks one last time, but he's already stepping closer, already has one foot in the door.

Beth shrugs. "Yeah. Why not?"

The guy's harmless. She might not be the best judge of character, but Castle seems to think exactly the same – that Conrad is a nice guy.

And it's not like Beth intends to marry him, anyway.

"Do you want some wine?" Beth asks over her shoulder, inspecting Castle's shelves. She finds the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon that they opened last night, grabs it, along with two glasses.

"Oh, uh – no, thank you."

Alex Conrad is leaning against the kitchen island, looking very much like he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Beth sets the glasses in front of him, gives him a sideways smile.

"I'm sorry, did I make that sound like a question? My bad. *I* want some red wine, and I think it's sad to be drinking alone, so I'm afraid that it doesn't leave you much of a choice. Think you can handle it, Alex?"

She sees him straighten his spine in answer to her challenging tone, and his blue eyes narrow a little. Good for him. The man has some backbone after all.

"I should be able to manage," he answers with a proud little grin."Last summer, I was in Italy – visiting Florence, trying to see if I could stage one of my murders there – and I ended up in a little bar one night, drinking with the owner's son. And I finished my bottle of red *way* before he did."

He looks so satisfied with himself as he tells her his little story; Beth cannot resist.

"One bottle, really? That's your big achievement? I once drank with a Russian guy (that I have reason to believe worked with the mob) and we did shots of vodka until he rolled on the floor and begged for mercy."

Conrad coughs, chokes on his wine, and stares at her.

"You're making that up."

Beth smiles, runs a hand though her shorter hair. It'll take a while to get used to the lack of long curls to twist around her index finger.

"Am not."

"Are too."

He sounds disbelieving, but a little turned on as well, and awed, like he wants it to be the truth. And it is. Just a...slightly embellished version of the truth. She lifts an eyebrow, sends him a mysterious little grin.

"You can't verify my story. So you'll just have to trust me, huh?"

He leans back a little, watching her with assessing eyes. Ha. He can observe all he wants; Beth has a really good poker face. Wins every time.

"What were you doing in Russia?" He finally asks, not exactly giving up, but attacking from a different angle.

Beth hums inwardly. Interesting. There is more to this man than meets the eye, it seems.

"Working with the US Embassy," she answers. "As an interpreter."

"You speak Russian?"

He says it like he's impressed, and a little surprised, but aroused isn't far either. She can tell.

"No," she answers, laughing, unwilling to help him. "That's Katie."

Conrad looks like he's enjoying himself, anyway.

"Okay...Kate speaks Russian, no wonder Rick. . .So not Russian, but something else? Spanish? German? French?"

She makes a noise of agreement at the last one, pressing her lips together to hide her amusement, and takes a sip of wine.

"French," he states, blue eyes alive with curiosity.

For a brief second, he reminds her of Castle, even though their faces and personalities seem completely different. Maybe that's a job requirement – curiosity? Maybe you need to have it in order to be a good writer?

Maybe she should try writing.

"How did you learn French?" Conrad asks, interrupting her career plans. "I mean, I took some in high school, but I only remember like three phrases. _Je ne sais pas le français,_" he starts with an approximate accent, "_où est le gare?_ and _Voulez-vous coucher_..."

He stops suddenly, flushes a deep crimson when the meaning of that last one hits him. Try as she might, Beth cannot keep her laughter in check.

"Yeah, for some reason, most guys seem to remember that one," she teases.

"I swear, it's not –" But then he looks at her, seems to realize she really doesn't care, and he starts laughing too, his whole face relaxing. "Oh god, guys do know that one, don't they? Not sure what that says about us."

"Well, to be honest," Beth answers, mercifully coming to his rescue, "I think with the Lady Marmalade song, everyone knows it, girls and guys alike."

"True, true," he says, shooting her a grateful look. "So, back to you. French?"

"Ah, I – lived in France for four years. Worked in a fancy hotel, learned the language. It was fun. And an amazing experience."

"Sure sounds like it. What made you decide to leave the US? You must have been pretty young –"

"What made you decide to become a writer?" Beth interrupts playfully, deciding that they've spent enough time talking about her.

He seems to catch her meaning, but he plays along, smiling and pondering his answer.

"Well. I've always been an avid reader. When I was younger and we went on trips, me and my family, my backpack was stuffed with as many books as I could fit in there, and my little brother generally had to whine for a good hour before I put down my book and consented to play with him."

Beth laughs. "That story sounds familiar."

He lifts an eyebrow at her. "Do you like reading?"

"Not me, my sister. I mean, I read, but it's nothing compared to her. And when we were younger, I always had to *beg* her to play with me. Like my Barbies had no chance of winning against her books."

And then when Kate _did_ play, the game became a totally different one: Barbie was an explorer, a lawyer, a doctor or an actress, and wonderful, crazy stuff happened to her, forest fires, floods, kidnappings - while all Beth did with the doll was have her fall in love, get married, and go out with her friends.

But somehow when she played on her own, she couldn't seem to make up half of Kate's fascinating stories.

She doesn't know Alex well enough to share those things, though. "And so...? Reading led to writing?"

"I...guess so? Writing was always easy for me, second nature, really. I never gave it much thought until a English teacher in high school wrote on one of my essays, _You have a knack for spinning a story. You should think of joining our Creative Writing Workshop_. I went, tried it out, and... Fell in love, basically."

He's smiling at the memory, his whole face illuminated by his obvious love for the craft. Beth has to admit that it's rather appealing.

"I – I mean, it hasn't been easy. So many aspiring young writers, you know? But yeah, I've known for a long time that it's what I want to do. No matter how long it takes. But having Mr. Castle – Rick – read my stuff, and offer all this advice, all this help... It's so crazy, and wonderful. I'd never have dreamed of it."

Beth smiles. "Well, the way he talks about it, it sounds like your novel's worth all the encouragement he can give."

Alex shakes his head in amazement, grins. "Sometimes I'm still scared that I'm going to wake up and find out it's all a dream, you know?"

Oh, Beth knows. Her chest tightens, and all joy vanishes at once. She knows what it's like, to be afraid that you'll wake up and it was all a dream. She had that feeling with Jasper, except she laughed it off every time, chalked it up to irrational anxiety. But it *was* all a dream, wasn't it?

And now she's awake.

She swallows back the tears, tries to shake the dark, heavy feeling, before Conrad can see it. But when she meets his eyes, she sees incomprehension and concern there, and she just can't breathe.

"Beth, did I say something –"

She reaches out, takes his hand to silence him, shaking her head.

When she can speak again, she says, "I'm good. Don't worry. And this isn't a dream, Alex. I promise."

He gives her a long, hard look, before a slow smile curves his lips, and his fingers squeeze hers.

"I believe you."

* * *

><p>"Oh my word, please tell me that someone-"<p>

Alexis rounds the stairs, finally looking up from her chemistry notes to see Beth. She stumbles to a stop when she realizes Beth has company.

Beth has company. Holy crap, she works fast. "Uh."

"Hey, Lex. Come meet your dad's. . .protegé. Alex Conrad, meet Alexis Castle. Huh, AC and AC. Funny that."

Alexis blinks, remembers her manners, and comes forward to meet him; she holds out her hand, juggling her notes, and shakes his. Alex Conrad is hot. Dark hair, blue-grey eyes, that scruffy look along his jaw.

"Nice to meet you, Alex."

"You too, Alexis. Sorry to barge into your home."

"Not barging. Dad is crazy about you. Honestly, you have to stop sending him those gushing emails. You're only inflating his ego."

Alex laughs, flushing cutely. "Ah, sorry?"

"Apology accepted. Just join the club and help us keep him in check, all right?"

Beth snorts. "Kate is the president of that club."

"There's a club, huh?" Alex looks like he's not sure if they're being serious or not.

"Gram was the president before that. I've been president. Now it's Kate's job-"

"For life," Beth adds.

"For life," Alexis echoes, laughing, and raises an eyebrow at Beth. "Don't let Kate hear you though."

Beth rolls her eyes and sips her wine. "What were you running down here for, Step Castle?"

Alexis sighs and goes further into the living room, waving her notes at them. "Please tell me you two know something about chemistry?"

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she sees the two of them exchange quick glances, and then Beth laughs, the sound both soothing and contagious. Alex Conrad laughs as well, lips turning up into a smile. Chemistry, right.

Alexis blushes and grins at them. "Okay, but seriously. I'm kinda freaking out over this problem. AP Chem slays me."

Beth gestures towards herself, sitting down on the couch, tucking a leg under her. "Lexi, you think I have any idea about chemistry?"

"Uh, actually I know a little?" Alex says, wincing as if that were truly nerdy. It is, of course it is, but Alexis squeals and runs towards him.

"You are awesome. I love you already. Okay, help me." She casts a nervous glance to Beth, biting her lip. "I'm interrupting something. Ooh, sorry-"

"Not at all," Alex says firmly. "I'd love to help Rick Castle's daughter."

Beth nods, permission in her eyes. That's all Alexis needs.

"Okay, it's gas law problems. Molecules remaining at a constant temperature. And-"

"Whoa, okay. Um. . ." Alex looks like he's backpedaling; her heart sinks. "I need the equations. I don't remember those. Do you-"

"I've got those. I just don't *get* it. This never happens to me," she moans, rubbing her forehead.

Beth giggles, standing up and grabbing the notes out of her hands. "All right, Little Castle. You and Alex come sit at the bar and work your chemistry gas problems. I'm going to make dinner. Another kind of chemistry altogether."

Alexis chews on her lip and turns to her father's protege. "You really don't mind, do you? Because I can call Julie back and make her explain it to me again."

"I really don't mind. Gives me an excuse to wait for your dad to get back."

"Oh. Hey, where did he go?" Alexis drops down to the bar stool as Beth spreads her notes out on the counter.

Alex sits down beside her, starts shuffling through the pages.

Beth grabs the pot off the burner and turns it down, wincing. "Oops. Um, he went to Kate's apartment. He said he's moving her in?"

Alexis's mouth drops open. "He did *not*? Ooh, Kate is either gonna love that, or totally hate him for it."

Beth sighs. "I'm thinking she'll fall on the love side, but you never know with my sister."

"And. . .where is Kate?"

"Asleep in there," Beth says, nodding towards her father's room. Alexis chews on her lip; she's noticed weird stuff that can't be explained by Kate just being sick. She wonders if she should-

"You wanna go check on her?" Beth says, knowingly.

Alexis glances to Alex. "You mind if I-"

"Go, go. I'll refresh my memory," Alex says kindly.

Alexis hops up and heads for the bedroom, trying to keep from running. Her father is going to move Kate in, huh? She grins as she slides through the study, then tiptoes to the bedroom.

Alexis puts a hand over her mouth, walks to the bed. Kate is curled tightly on her father's side, hair falling over her face, fist curled up under her chin. She looks better than she did earlier today, but her skin is still waxy.

Alexis leans over, hesitating for a second, then brushes the hair back from Kate's face. The woman doesn't stir, which is good. She needs the rest. Alexis has never had someone like Kate who-

Not worth it. He'll mess it up somehow. Or she will. Alexis just needs to keep her expectations low, mild. She wants Kate to stay, but she can't-

"Alexis?"

She jerks her hand away, sees Kate's eyes are open.

"S-sorry. I didn't mean to wake you-"

"S'okay. Time's it?" Kate's eyes drift closed.

"It's okay, not time to get up yet. Sleep, Kate."

"Mm, but-"

"Sleep. You'll feel better if you sleep." Alexis can't help herself; she leans in and strokes her hand down Kate's hair, tucks it behind her ear.

Kate sighs, eyelids flickering open and then closed again. "Love you, Alexis."

She swallows hard, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird. "You too. Love you too, Kate."

* * *

><p>Castle walks in on his daughter being tutored by Alex Conrad, Beth Beckett making a wicked smelling pork roast, and Kate still in bed. Hopefully.<p>

"Ooh, good. You all can help. Come on, I need hands."

He gestures towards his family, or well, okay, sure - fine - all family here. Conrad is the first to hop up (brownie points!) but Alexis and Beth follow at once. He leads them back to the elevator, running to catch it.

The doors slide back open on Kate's stuff. Most of the important stuff anyway. Or well, what he thinks is important.

"Oh my word, Dad. How much did you bring?" Alexis steps up beside him, raising an eyebrow. Just like Beckett. She is insidious with the facial expressions.

"Enough to make it very difficult for Beckett to move it all back," he says, letting his eyebrows dance.

Alexis laughs and shakes her head. "Well, okay. That makes sense."

"See? Never doubt the master."

"All right, where are we taking all of this?" Conrad says, stepping past both him and his daughter and picking up a suitcase.

"I like your can-do attitude, Alex. Just dump it all in the living room. I'll have to sort through stuff. Beth, you maybe could help me out with arranging stuff, putting it where you think Kate will want it to go?"

Beth shrugs. "Sure. But. . .well, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Oh, you should know by now," Alexis starts in. "Warnings are lost on my dad."

"Hey now. I can be cautious. But this is not a time for caution."

"This is a time for sneaking around behind Beckett's back?" Alexis says, crossing her arms over her chest. An entirely Alexis move, he's grateful to note. "Dad, you *know* Kate hates that. Seriously hates it."

"Hush. Don't try to confuse me with your reasonableness."

He takes his daughter by the shoulders and turns her around, pushing her towards the full elevator.

She sighs and picks up a storage container. "How did you even get this all here?"

"I borrowed Joey's SUV."

"Joey the cute doorman?"

"No, Joey the dreamboat doorman," Castle retorts, throwing a sly look at her. "And honestly, I didn't know the kids still said dreamboat these days. That was a revelation-"

"Shut up," Alexis says, knocking him with the tub on her way down the hall. Castle grins aftter her and looks back to Beth. If there's one person whose opinion he wants, it's hers.

"It's a toss-up, Rick. Either she thinks it's the sweetest thing ever, or she thinks you're a cave man."

"Yeah," he says, glancing at all Kate's stuff. "I'm hoping sweet, but I wouldn't mind a little cave man too. That can be sexy."

Beth laughs, leans over to grab another, smaller suitcase. "Well, sure. I can tell that you are the eternal optimist in this relationship."

"But seriously," Castle says, bending over to pick up the wooden trunk Kate's always had at the foot of her bed. "Dumb idea or. . .brilliant idea?"

Beth chews on her lower lip; her haircut makes her whole face look differently, her worry more pronounced, her joy more complete. But he's only getting worry right this moment. Castle sighs and starts trudging down the hall.

"Rick?"

He turns, looks over his shoulder to see Beth starting after him.

"I think maybe this is just the thing Kate needs right now," Beth says, her eyes on him, dark and serious.

Castle wonders, for just a moment, if Beth could possibly know already what's been going on with Kate.

Of course she does, doesn't she? This is Kate's sister. They share secrets. Beth knows because Kate told her.

And she didn't tell him. To protect him from the bad news, the anxiety? Or to keep him out of the loop?

He's not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing. He just finds himself overwhelmingly grateful that Beth is here for Kate. Someone needs to be.


	9. Chapter 9

The smell slips under the door and slowly surrounds the bed, swirling and rich, mouth-watering. Kate rolls over, senses slowly awakening, her stomach growling enthusiastically before her eyes are even open.

Smells like meat, roast or pork maybe, and seasoning. Smells good.

She feels drowsy, out of it, her eyelids heavy with remnants of sleep. Like she overslept. Ugh. She hates that feeling.

She rests a hand to her belly as if to quell the hunger swelling inside, and feels the angry pulse of blood under her fingers. Okay. So obviously, she needs food.

And she feels like it too, which might mean she's getting better. Oh, yes. Please. She wants it to be over already, done, the shivering and the throwing up and the feverish state that drives her crazy.

No more fake pregnancy symptoms. Please.

Kate shifts in the bed, slowly sits up, waits for the world to start swaying.

It doesn't.

A smile curves her lips, and she pushes back the covers, suddenly aware that her hair is damp with sweat, and so is the collar of Castle's sweatshirt. Ew.

She takes it off, shivers as the cool air brushes her skin. Okay, shower. Shower and then food. And then maybe she'll feel human again.

She quickly undresses and hops in the shower, blessing Castle and his luxury as she plays with the massage jets, adds a little steam. It feels so damn good; she might cry if she had less control over herself.

She can hear voices coming from the living room, she realizes as she pours a dollop of shampoo into her hand. Castle and her sister, of course, and Alexis, always quieter than the first two; but there's another male voice that Kate is sure she has heard lately.

She searches her memory.

Oh, the writer protégé. Alex Conrad. Yeah, that could be him. It's definitely not Ryan or Esposito.

She rinses her hair, turns off the water, and reaches for one of Castle's white, sinfully large towels. Her hand comes back clutching dark red terrycloth. She stares at it in confusion.

This is one of *her* towels. From her apartment. They have a flower embroidered in a corner that makes them recognizable, so there's no doubt about it. What are her dark red towels (the color looks great in her white bathroom) doing in Castle's loft?

Kate's chest tightens with a mixture of apprehension and dawning realization. She carefully wraps the towel around her body, secures it in place, and steps out of the shower in detective mode.

Her trained eyes notice all the little details, all the things that have been added – and made as inconspicuous as possible – since the last time she came in here.

The green toothbrush from her bathroom (now they have three, which looks sort of stupid). All of her make-up – not just the basic eyeliner, mascara and eyeshadow that she usually keeps in the medicine cabinet. Her stash of rubber bands in the little metal tray. Her hair straightener, neatly lined up on one of the upper shelves (she was considering buying an extra one last week). Jeez, even her box of tampons. She closes the mirrored door on it all.

Kate has forgotten to breathe.

She forces herself to gulp down some air, even though it burns all the way to her lungs.

Her hand lifts as if to open the bathroom drawers, but she stills. There's no need, really. She knows what she's going to find.

Dread battles inside her as Beckett pivots, pushes the bathroom door open. She didn't look before because she was only half-awake, because she was delighted to find herself nausea-free, but she's looking now, eyes wide and mouth parted in disbelief.

Her painting.

Her Alex Gross painting, the woman clutching her hat and the planes crashing around her and the baby –

Kate averts her eyes, works on her breathing. Slowly. In and out. She can do this.

Okay.

Okay. So Castle went to her apartment, brought some of her stuff back. Probably a *lot* of her stuff, because even now, as she's trying not to stare at her floor-to-ceiling painting that he rested against the wall between his own two black and white prints, her eyes keep catching glimpses of her clothes, of her books, of things that weren't here before. Jewelry box, her sweatshirt thrown over the chair, the red blanket she usually has on the end of her bed (it clashes in here).

His room is crowded now, the whole space thrown a little off, but she can see what it means, can read his statement loud and clear.

These things belong here. _You belong here_.

What the hell is he *doing*? But even as she wonders that, she has to admit that she knows the answer already, whether she likes it or not.

Richard Castle's moving her in.

She draws a measured breath, pulls her lower lip in between her teeth. Her eyes unwittingly travel back to her painting, and this one thought crosses her mind, settles there, irresistible.

Her painting looks good on his wall.

* * *

><p>Castle heard the shower running; he knows she's awake. He's practically shaking in anxiety, unable to stand still – Beth shoos him out of the kitchen when he knocks over the salt, nearly ruining her careful preparation.<p>

He looks around for something to do, anything, anything; he moves towards Conrad and Alexis, who are still discussing her chem homework –

And then it comes.

Her voice, sharp and clear, through the open door of his study, coming from the bedroom. His bedroom. Their bedroom. Hope alternates with terror, so fast that it makes him dizzy.

"Castle!"

Oh, God. Here goes.

"Alexis, you know my will is in the safe in my office, right?" he whispers, his voice pitched too high.

"Dad." Her tone is gently reproachful, but she doesn't look much more confident than he feels.

He glances over at Beth; she's watching him, her eyes – Kate's eyes – undecipherable. He's alone in this, isn't he? He swallows, and then straightens his spine, stands tall.

What's there to be ashamed of? Nothing. He loves Kate, wants what's best for her. And right now, he thinks that moving in with him is what she needs. What they both need. No more of this half-life stuff.

Surely she can see that. Surely she can see that he's all in, that there's no need for a back-up plan, no need for her old apartment. No need to keep one foot out the door. He thinks she *knows* that, at some level, but he's going to remind her anyway.

Nothing to be afraid of. Right?

Heart in his throat, he pushes the bedroom door open.

Kate is standing with her back to him, wrapped in nothing but one of her deep red towels, and in spite of everything he can't help but notice how gorgeous it looks against her milky skin, cutting through the smooth expanse of her back, leaving the line of her legs bare, the pure, lovely skin.

His chest constricts, filled with too much at once.

She turns her head to him; her wet hair is a riot of shiny waves even in the dim evening light, pearls of water sliding slowly along her dark bangs, along the roundness of her shoulder.

He can't help himself anymore; he walks to her, bends over to bring his lips to that sparkling drop, swallows it, his mouth lingering over the soft, warm skin. She shivers against him, shivers hard, but she doesn't step away.

He closes his eyes in relief.

She's not running.

Not yet, anyway.

"Castle," she says. Her voice is so quiet, and yet he can hear everything in it: the fear and love so closely intertwined, and this breathless thing that sounds like shock, or wonder – he can't be sure.

"Kate."

He doesn't know what else to say, couldn't get the words out if he did.

She chews on her lip, lifts her eyes to meet his. They're dark and bottomless and vulnerable, transparent, and his heart squeezes, so painful that he wants to cry, like the girl he is.

"You went to my apartment."

He nods. No use trying his voice right now.

"Brought my stuff here."

Another nod. He's not going to deny any of it.

Kate takes a deep breath; he imagines he can see the air travel down her delicate throat, her heaving chest. She runs her tongue across her lower lip (so hot how she does that), thoughtful, almost hesitant.

Kate Beckett is never hesitant.

"How much of my stuff?" She finally asks, sounding like she's bracing herself for his answer, steeling her spine.

What can he say? He remembers Alexis's same question earlier, recalls his own answer.

"Enough?"

As soon as it's out of his mouth, Castle winces. He shouldn't be so insecure, shouldn't have let his voice go up at the end, like it's a question. It's not.

But something flashes in Kate's eyes, something that looks like amusement; and he catches it on her lips, too faint and brief but there nonetheless. A ghost of a smile.

She arches an eyebrow.

"You don't sound too sure, Rick," she points out.

She's giving him another chance? He'll take it.

"Enough," he says again, louder this time. Resolute. "I brought enough of your stuff to keep you from going back."

Well. He said it. There it is, all out in the open. And just in case she might have missed his most important point, he adds, "I'm sure, Kate."

Emotion flickers in her eyes; she drops them to the floor, this instinctive protection reflex that she has. But he won't let her retreat, not this time. He threads his fingers in her hair, cups the back of her head, angles her neck to *make* her look at him.

_Look at me, Kate._

She lets out a startled breath, but then her whole expression seems to change when confronted with his certainty, like it radiates out of him and into her, darkening her eyes, settling the line of her mouth.

He wants to kiss that knowledge, feel it on the curve of her lips, taste it on her tongue.

She kisses him first.

She comes at him unexpected and delicious, her thumb at his cheekbone, her teeth at his lower lip, her body warm and soft against his. He opens himself to her, arms, mouth, soul, welcomes her with an enthusiastic sweep of his tongue.

Kate is thorough, dedicated, her exploration a slow, arousing dance. She's not usually one for lazy – she always ends up threatening him with terrible things when he takes his sweet time with her body – so he revels in it for what it is - a present - surprised and moved and grateful.

When she breaks the kiss, she rests her forehead against the side of his neck, her arms around him, and he doesn't move, hardly breathes.

He can't believe how lucky he is.

"Show me," she says at last, her voice a little raspy, when she moves away to meet his eyes. He swears, he sees her steal a glance at the painting, and he wants to believe that it's the baby she's looking at.

"Show me where you put everything."

He smiles, a happy, unmitigated smile, lets it crinkle his eyes.

"Want to get dressed first?" He suggests, wiggling an eyebrow at her (lack of) clothes.

Kate looks down at her towel and comes very, very close to blushing.

Adorable.

"That's an idea," she answers, and then she gives him a sultry look that almost has him tripping over his own feet. "Wanna help?"

Does she even need to ask?

* * *

><p>She manages to eat a little bit of dinner without her stomach rolling, even though it's not quite right still. She drinks a lot of water because she can feel the dehydration cramping her calf muscles, making her tongue dry, and the water keeps her full.<p>

They all eat in the living room so Kate won't have to move off the sofa, even though she keeps telling them she feels so much better. Castle is quiet throughout the meal, sitting beside her, leaning into her like he doesn't want to not be touching her. Kate can't bear to look at him, his face holds so much hope, such beautiful, overwhelming hope. So she sits beside him and lets her sister clear the dishes while Conrad washes everything up.

After dinner, Castle stays with her on the couch while Alex and Beth run out for ice cream. Kate's amused by her sister's hesitant enthusiasm - if there can be such a thing - but thoughts of her sister are dissolved by the heat of the man beside her.

She turns towards him, thinking he's got his eye on her, and finds instead that he's fallen asleep. Kate thumbs the volume down on the television and meets Alexis's eyes.

"I've never seen your dad fall asleep in the middle of things before," Kate says, glancing back at Castle. "Is this normal?"

"Not. . .that I can remember. Has been a long day though. He moved all your stuff, Kate." Alexis gives her a smirk and stands up from her end of the couch, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "Ooh, sorry, Ashley just texted me. I'm gonna go call him."

"Yeah, yeah, go." Kate throws her a smile and turns back to her sleeping partner, reaching over his body to brush the hair off his forehead. Her fingers burn at the touch of his skin.

She presses her wrist against his temple, tries to gauge his temperature. She blinks at the intensity of the heat coming off him.

"Castle?"

He stirs immediately, but it's only to burrow deeper into the couch, turn his head away from her.

"Hey. Castle. Wake up for a second." She gets to her knees and peers over him, brushing a hand down his cheek. His neck is damp with sweat. "Castle."

He opens his mouth, licks his lips slowly. "Just a minute more," he mumbles.

"Rick. I need you to wake up."

He opens his eyes, fever bright and bloodshot. Already?

"Oh damn," she whispers. "Castle, how do you feel?"

"It's hot in here," he mutters, and lifts his arms up, yanking off his sweater. It gets stuck on his head and he makes a pitiful sound, so Kate reaches out and helps him, tugging it off his arms, throwing it to one side. His tshirt is rumpled, his hair sticking up.

"Yeah, it's not that hot in here," she says softly, looking into his eyes. "Let's get you into bed, okay?"

Her bout with the stomach flu didn't include much of a fever (although, maybe it did, last night? it's mostly a blur of running for the bathroom), but now that she's thinking back, she did have a couple of days feeling achey and weak before the vomiting set in, and it's possible she was running a fever then.

Halfway down the hall to his room, Castle stands up straighter, glancing down at her.

"Hey, you with me now, Castle?"

"Kate. . .I don't feel so good."

She bites her lip. "I'm sorry. We shouldn't have-"

"Kate-" he whispers, and she watches as the blood drains out of his face, his cheeks and neck blanch. And then he's darting away from her, stumbling down the hall, into the bathroom.

Damn. She got him sick.

Kate pulls out her phone and texts her sister, asks them to bring back some more gatorade and phenergen from the pharmacy. She would've taken the drug herself, had she thought she really did have just a stomach virus, but at least Castle can take it and hopefully suppress the nausea.

She waits a little bit until she hears the toilet flush, then heads into the bathroom to check on him.

Castle is sitting in the floor with his legs drawn up to his chest, his arms on his knees, his head down, breathing deeply, slowly.

"Hey, Rick, what do you need?" She sits carefully beside him, reaches out and draws her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He's slick with sweat, but he shivers at her touch. For a long time he doesn't say anything, but she slowly strokes his skin and waits him out.

"That feels good," he says finally, and she can hear him swallowing.

"I texted Beth to get you some drugs."

He half-turns towards the toilet; her hand drops to his shoulder, but he shudders once and keeps it down.

"Hey, throwing up makes you feel better, so just go ahead and do it."

He shakes his head, says nothing for another long minute. She can see him struggling not to get sick, a hand pressed against his forehead and his palm cover his eyes. His skin is waxy; he swallows hard and tilts his head back against the wall. His legs slide down. "I hate throwing up," he whispers.

Kate gets to her knees in front of him, gently touches his cheek, runs her hands over his chest to his shoulders. "I'm so sorry I got you sick."

He shakes his head. "Gonna kill Ryan."

She laughs at the half-smile on his face, brushes her fingers through the hair on his forehead. "Want some water? Brush your teeth?"

"Gonna stay here a bit," he mutters.

"Ah. Okay. Stay as long as you need. Want a pillow? Blanket?"

His shoulders hunch and she's gets out of his way, making a beeline for the bedroom before she hears him vomit again. She presses a hand to her mouth and takes a few more steps away.

The sound is what does it to her. She can't. . .she'll throw up if she listens to it. Any other day, she'd be fine, she'd be a rock. But her stomach is only just recovering, still feels as nervous as a cat, and every time his face turned green in there, she felt the sympathetic quivering in her own stomach.

Kate heads for the kitchen and a fresh glass, fills it with ice and water from the fridge, then makes her way slowly back to the bedroom.

When she comes in, Castle is lying on his side in the bed, his hands pressed between his knees, his body on top of the comforter, looking pale and wrung out. She places the glass on his bedside table, runs her fingers down his cheek until he opens his eyes.

"Sorry," he murmurs.

"No, no. My fault for passing it on. I knew better. Here, let's get you under the covers-"

"Not. . .not a good idea. Don't wanna get tangled up."

"Ah, okay. Let's at least get you a blanket?"

He hums approval and she searches through his closet, finds something soft and fuzzy and black, throws it over her him. He doesn't move; his lips are pressed tightly together. She knows that feeling, knows it with a suddenness and vividness that makes her crawl up behind him in the bed and press a kiss to his cheek, tug his head into her lap.

Castle sighs and curls around her leg, hooking his arm at her knee. He presses his forehead to her upper thigh, his mouth on her sweatpants, breathing hotly. But the misery on his face keeps her still, makes her brush her hands through his hair and blow her breath across his forehead, cooling him off.

"That feels good," he sighs.

She curls around him, running a hand over his shoulder, kissing his temple. "Try to sleep. Sleep while you can."

He untangles a hand from between his knees and curls it around her waist.


	10. Chapter 10

**Stop Haunting Me**

by **Sandiane Carter** and** chezchuckles**

* * *

><p>"For some reason," Alex Conrad says as he holds the door for Beth, "I think when your sister said, <em>Beth, could you go get some ice cream<em>, she didn't quite picture you coming back with four, no wait, five different flavors."

"Hey, it's not my fault," Beth defends herself, laughing. "I know Kate likes chocolate, but Alexis prefers vanilla, and from what I remember, Rick whines when there's less than three ingredients involved in whatever ice cream he's having, so..."

"Okay, that explains the first three cartons, but what about –" Alex pulls one of the boxes out of the plastic bag he's carrying, and reads, "_Caramel Cinnamon Waffle_, huh?"

"Really? Do you need to ask?" Beth shoots back, stepping inside the elevator. "Alex. Caramel. Cinnamon. _Waffle_. I mean, what more do you need? How can you *not* want to try that?"

He raises an eyebrow, apparently not as convinced as she is. Beth wonders briefly how they got from that shy, uncomfortable man who almost ran away before he even knew if Castle was home to that friendly, playful guy who's disputing her ice cream choices.

Not that she minds. She likes him; she likes how easy things are with him. She thinks maybe – maybe they can be friends.

It's a new thing for her, to consider having a friendship with an attractive guy (a straight guy); but she doesn't want to jump into something she's not ready for, and she doesn't want to give up Conrad either, because he's fun and light-hearted and just...cute.

Besides, the friends thing worked for Kate and Rick, didn't it?

Not that she's comparing. She's not.

But she and Alex can be friends. She doesn't have to figure it out now. She can stay in New York City for a little while, test the waters, and...yeah. No rush.

"Okay, what about _Coconutterly Fair_?" Conrad is asking now, his confusion obvious in his tone as he peers at the last carton. "What kind of a name is that, anyway? Coconutterly fair," he repeats slowly, as if trying to decide where the word originates from.

Beth laughs inwardly at the intent expression on his face. She can sort of see why he would be friends with Castle. Or mentor and mentee, or whatever they are.

The elevator doors glide open with a cheerful sound; she grabs Alex's arm, drags him out and confiscates the ice cream.

"You'll just have to try it," she says with a sly smile. "You'll see. It's simply _divine_."

She wrestles Kate's key into the door, pushes it open, expecting to find her sister and the Castles in the living room, right where she left them. Instead, they stumble onto an empty couch, and Beth's brow knits.

Ah, shit. She hoped Kate's text about buying drugs was only a preventive measure, just in case, but it looks like her sister's feeling sick again. Damn.

"Alex, can you –"

"I'll put the ice cream in the freezer," he offers with a gentle smile. "You go check on them."

Gratitude swirls inside Beth, and she moves swiftly, stepping into Castle's study and hesitating at the bedroom door. She lifts her hand for a very soft knock, hears Kate's voice inside, muffled.

Probably an invitation to come in.

In case it isn't, though, Beth puts a hand over her eyes as she pushes on the door. She's not a prude, far from it, but this is still her *sister*. There are things you just don't want to see.

A quiet chuckle from Kate lets her know that it's safe to look; Beth drops her hand, her eyebrows shooting up at the sight before her.

Her sister's leaning against the headboard, pillows behind her, the faint color in her cheeks attesting to her almost recovery; but she's cradling Castle's head in her lap, her hand resting on his hair, and the writer looks like he's asleep.

His face, even in the dark, seems whiter than the sheets.

Beth winces. "Oh. I thought the drugs were for you," she whispers, sitting on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Rick's slumber.

Kate shakes her head regretfully, her eyes on Castle's face, so tender that Beth's heart squeezes.

"Looks like I passed it around," she sighs.

"Hey, he's the one who kept kissing you when you looked all green and were rushing to the bathroom every five minutes," Beth points out. "It's not exactly your fault."

"Beth."

"Just sayin'."

She watches her sister trace Castle's hairline with a light finger, and an unexpected smile blooms on her face. Kate is so much like their mother at times.

"So, uh – what am I doing with the ice cream?"

"Oh."

Kate looks up at her, hesitant. "You can start, and I'll join you later? I doubt Castle will be having any, and I don't –"

Want to leave him. Beth's brain supplies the words that her sister has so much trouble saying, even after a year, and she nods in agreement. No need to tell Kate that they have enough ice cream to laste them the next few months. Or weeks, depending on their ice cream-eating skills. She's gonna go with weeks.

"Beth?" Kate calls as her sister eases to her feet.

The youngest Beckett turns back, expectant.

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone like that – Alexis went to call Ashley, but she'll be back soon, and if you're not... I mean, if you don't want to entertain Alex Conrad, just ask him to leave. Okay? You don't owe him anything."

"Sure," Beth smiles. "Don't worry, Katie. It'll be fine."

* * *

><p>He drifts awake to the murmur of voices, drifts away again, finds his heaviness lightening slowly until he rises up with the current of his consciousness.<p>

He awakes in arms, her arms, the brush of fingers. His eyes open before he knows they're closed; the black lashes and the angle of her jaw, the familiar lines around her mouth as she watches him.

"Kate," he sighs and closes his eyes again.

"How are you?" she murmurs, her fingers brushing across his forehead in cool little contrails.

He feels his arm around her waist, his fingers at her hip, his ear practically at her belly button. But nothing to listen to.

He's hot. And muddled. His skin burns except where she touches him. His Kate. She'd never want a baby, would she? She didn't even want to tell him about the maybe. Not a whisper. All alone in the bathroom, without him, doing it alone.

He never wants her to be alone again.

"I'm sorry." His head hurts. "For last night. All alone-" he chokes out.

"Hey, don't feel sorry. I didn't want you in there watching me puke, Castle. Not pretty. Don't even worry about it."

He stays silent. She doesn't want him to know; she wants to be past it. Of course she does. He wants-

He wants her. And that vision that burns against his eyelids, tangles in his blood. He wants to give her sons and daughters, a legacy and a bridge, a way to love without a wall around her heart.

He has Alexis. What does she have?

"Kate," he moans, swallows hard against the grief that wells up in him like sickness.

"Shh," she murmurs, her lips against his cheek, at his ear. "You're gonna be fine. I had Beth get you some good drugs. Think you can keep something down?"

This isn't enough. How could it be enough? Half-life. Tricking her into moving in with him, like an april fools joke. Tiptoeing around the issues. But he can't be the one either; he can't-

"Castle, you're burning up. I need you to take some tylenol. Can you sit up and take a couple pills?"

He wants to cry. His body is wrong; her fingers keep him from falling off the earth-

"Hey, Rick. Come on. Wake up and take these, okay?"

His eyes flicker open to the concern on her face, the beautiful way she looks at him. Oh, he loves her.

"So much."

"So much?" She opens his palm and puts the tylenol in it; awareness ripples through him. "Take these."

"Oh." He grunts as he sits up, feels the flutter in his stomach and has to close his eyes for a second.

"Dizzy?"

"Huh."

"Okay, give it a second. Let me fill up this glass with water. Be right back."

He feels her shift on the bed and then the trickle of cold air against his back; he shivers. His eyes open, scratchy and burning, his palms sweaty. He opens his hand to look at the pills; they seem soft, partially dissolved against his skin.

The shadow of Kate against his eyelids, the gasp as he wakes again, sitting upright, her hand on his shoulder. He dozed off sitting up.

"Hey there. I need you to take this for me." She presses the glass into his other hand, nudges it towards his mouth. He takes over, swallows the pills dry, sips at the water a little.

His mouth floods with saliva and he has to gulp it down, titlting his head back, breathing slowly.

"Think it'll stay down?"

"Don't know," he whispers.

She disappears, reappears again. He's concentrating on keeping the pills down. What were they?

"What was that?"

"Tylenol. Think you can take the phenergan? It should settle your stomach if you can keep it down."

"Don't know."

"Okay. We'll wait a little bit."

He opens his eyes as the mattress dips, watches her shift against the headboard, then her arms wrap around his chest, pull him to her. He breathes a long sigh, his head tilted back against her shoulder, slumping back.

Her fingers trace patterns against his skin, slow movements along his face, tattoos on his forehead and cheekbones and chin.

He turns his head into her neck, his lashes brushing her throat, curling a hand around her hip, feeling the smooth plane of her stomach against his arm.

"You'll be a wonderful mother," he sighs, lets his eyes slip closed.

* * *

><p>Alexis left her dad and Kate alone in the living room, and when she comes down again she finds Beth and Alex Conrad in their place, settled on the couch with bowls of ice cream. She blinks to dispell the strange feeling.<p>

Beth sees her, sits up while swallowing a mouthful of what looks like vanilla and chocolate ice cream. But it smells weirdly of caramel and. . .waffles?

"Hey, Little Castle," she says. "There's all the ice cream you want in the freezer, but I didn't make you a bowl because I didn't know when you'd be done –"

Alexis blushes a little, suddenly reminded of the fact that she spends too much time on the phone with Ashley. She is aware of it, vaguely ashamed too, sort of, but she doesn't seem able to stop picking up when he calls, and they both have obvious difficulties keeping a phone call short.

Then again, he *is* her first boyfriend, and maybe she just needs a little time to adjust. Everything is still shiny and new, the thought of his name still makes her smile every time, and it just can't be that bad if it feels so wonderful, right?

"Thanks, Beth. It's fine. Where – where is my dad?" She asks warily. The fact that both he and Kate are missing points out to the obvious answer, but Alexis is a little surprised. They don't usually disappear in the middle of family time just to – do whatever they do in their bedroom.

Just the thought makes her cheeks flush. Beth sees it – of course she does – and she laughs, that beautiful laugh that has her tilting her head back, curls spilling over her shoulders. Well, there's not much spilling now, but it doesn't take anything away from the heart-warming sight.

"He's not doing anything that justifies you blushing, Alexis," she answers with a wink, before growing more serious. "Actually, he's not feeling so good – looks like he got Kate's bug. I think he's in his room sleeping. Or resting. Kate's with him."

The words penetrate Alexis's brain, but she remains impervious to their meaning for a couple more seconds. Her dad? Sick? That...can't be. It never happens. She doesn't remember ever seeing him sick.

Well, he's had a cold or two before, but that's about as far as it goes. Her dad in bed before nine o'clock? She struggles with the concept.

"Oh. Uh. I – should go check on him," she says slowly, gathering her wits. Then she remembers – Kate's with him.

"Do you think I can?" She asks, cutting her eyes to Beth. It hurts a little, having to ask that question; for a brief moment Alexis longs for the time when it was only her and her dad, when she could do anything she wanted. The princess of the castle.

Then she remembers that she was just on the phone with Ashley, and Kate was obviously taking care of her dad in the meantime. She should be grateful. She *is* grateful.

"Of course," Beth answers gently, as if she's been following every one of the girl's thoughts. "He'll probably be thrilled to get so much attention."

She has a point. Alexis smiles, if a nervous smile, and tries not to run to her dad's bedroom.

She slows down once in the study, noticing the absence of light through the ajar door. Is he really sleeping?

She scratches at the door, her fingernails against the dark wook, and steps inside. Her eyes are quick to adjust, and she catches Kate's swift move, her hand going up to her cheek as if to wipe...tears?

"Is he okay?" Alexis asks, her throat suddenly tight (because Kate crying can only mean terrible things, right? Kate crying is like – the apocalypse or something).

She stares at her dad's unmoving form, curled up on the bed with his head on Kate's lap, as if it's going to bring her answers.

"Yeah," Kate assures quietly, giving her a tired smile. "He's not doing so great right now, but he'll get better, Alexis. I think the Tylenol should help. And the anti-nausea medication, soon as I can get in him."

Alexis breathes out in relief, lets herself sag on the bed, bringing a timid hand to her dad's ankle. He's never like this. Always so full of life.

"He's *never* sick," she says, because she needs to explain her reaction. She feels lost, and a little disbelieving – inadequate. "Never_._ I...don't know what to do."

She lifts her eyes to Kate, sees her chewing on her lower lip, guilt in her eyes.

She listens to her own words again, hears how they must have sounded.

"Oh, Kate, I didn't mean –"

"I know," the detective says softly. "Don't worry about it."

The man between them shifts, lets out a pitiful sound that rattles Alexis's heart. She eases onto the bed completely, curls on her side to face her father.

"Oh, dad," she sighs, pressing her fingers to his forehead. She winces at the burning heat, pushes back his messy hair, filled with a ridiculous urge to cry.

His lashes flutter against his too-pale skin; he opens his eyes, blurry and unfocused eyes, but she gives him a smile anyway.

"Alexis," he mutters, recognizing either her face or her voice.

"Daddy," she whispers, her five-year-old self rising to life.

Memories rush through her, half-forgotten, buried memories. There was this one time when he did get really sick, because she remembers Martha being there all the time, and maybe even Meredith. Alexis herself was only allowed in her father's room for a certain amount of time every day, and she always brought a book with her that she would read to him.

A children's book, of course, but she could read pretty well at five; he always said how proud he was of his little reader.

"Want me to read you a story?" She asks, more for the sake of old times than because she really expects a reaction from him.

But she's wrong: her father rolls onto his back, blinks, awareness on the lines of his face. He yawns, directs a fuzzy grin at her.

"Mmh yeah. I want a story," he mumbles happily, before he frowns and lays a hand over his stomach. "Ugh," he whines after a moment. "Story, daughter. Quick. Distract me."

Alexis runs to the bookshelf, picks one of the novels and gets back to the bed right when Kate sits up and says, "I'll leave you two alone, rescue Beth from Alex Conrad –"

But Alexis's father hooks an arm around the detective's waist, firmly tugs her back to him.

"You stay right there, Kate Beckett," he declares childishly. "Your sister doesn't need no rescuing."

"Can you tell he's sick?" Alexis tells Kate, smirking. "His grammar is the first thing to go."

"I noticed," the older woman shoots back with an arch of her eyebrow.

"I'm sick, not deaf," he grumbles, but a smile plays on his lips when Kate gives up on leaving and rests her head against his shoulder, her eyes on the teenager. "Still waiting for that story," he sing-songs.

Alexis smiles and opens the book, positioning herself so that the ray of light that comes through the door falls right on the page.

"'It is a truth universally acknowledged,'" she reads, "'that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.'"

She pauses for her father's happy sigh of recognition, glancing at Kate to see her reaction.

Uh. There's a soft smile on Kate's face, and her eyes are closed. Love bubbles up inside Alexis, warm and unexpected, and she looks back at the page, trying to contain her emotion.

"'However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed...'"

* * *

><p>Kate slips out of the bedroom when Alexis is a chapter into <span>Pride and Prejudice<span>, taking a long, deep breath of clean air out in the hallway. She leans against the wall for a second, waiting for her legs to stop shaking, then heads for the kitchen.

She's restless, and not just because Castle is sick and looking pitiful and quiet. She's gotten the phenergan down him too, which should help a lot with the nausea, and Alexis is in there reading to him, the two of them sharing private jokes with just a glance at each other.

It's good, she reminds herself. It's very good. So Kate doesn't know anything about these family jokes, about whatever it is that made Alexis choose this particular book (Jane Austen? really?), but that's okay. She *will* know, in time.

In the living room, she catches Alex Conrad and Beth lost in conversation on the couch, looking at once both intimate and casual. A friendship being cemented. Which is sweet, yes, but Kate hopes her sister is treading carefully, reminding herself of what-

Well, no. Scratch that. She hopes her sister has forgotten; she hopes Beth gets a chance to meet someone decent who will love her and take care of her and want to give her children when she's ready. And if that's Alex Conrad, then good for them. She really hopes Beth remains her fun, loving, open self and doesn't turn into her older sister.

Because Kate isn't at all sure that the way she's been going about this thing with Castle is really all that healthy. Or wise. She's starting to wonder if maybe she's been doing this all wrong, too closed off, too reserved, too. . .not enough. She can't even put a label on it in her own head. Other than just. . .partners.

Castle had to force her hand by moving in all her stuff. He even remembered the box she places her gun, badge, and family mementos inside of; he put it on his dresser next to the flat box that contains his cuff links and watch and wallet. He told her to put it wherever she liked, that they'd move her dresser into the bedroom as soon as he could get someone over there.

Which is sweet. But Castle had to do it all behind her back, knowing she'd never give in to it. And if she's being really honest with herself, she would never have agreed if it hadn't been for the pregnancy scare.

Scare? No. That wasn't a scare. That was. . .both a nightmare and a dream.

She swallows hard and searches the fridge for the bread. There is no good label for what it felt like to take that test and find it negative. Not a scare, but not a false hope. Not. . .anything she can figure out yet.

But it did soften her up for his move-in scheme.

Still, he deserves better from her. More. Something with solidity attached to it, something with a promise.

She grabs the jar of peanut butter and a knife, spreads a very thin layer on a piece of bread, not sure if her stomach will stay calm enough to eat.

As she watches Beth jumping wholeheartedly into whatever this attraction is to Alex Conrad, Kate sees an idea slowly emerge from the swirling mass of her own mind. There *is* something she can do, something with a promise, something to last.

"Hey Beth?" she calls, licking peanut butter off her finger.

Her sister turns around, looking surprised. She must not have noticed Kate walk past. Interesting. And cute.

"I've got to head back to the pharmacy. Alexis is in there reading. Will you just check on him in a few minutes?"

"Uh, sure. Okay. Is the medicine I got working?"

Kate nods. "Seems to be. I'm gonna put on my shoes and grab some money and go. Be back in a few."

Beth glances to Alex Conrad and shrugs. "Sure."

Kate knows exactly what she can do to make this right.

* * *

><p>Her heart pounds the whole walk back to his bedroom, the plastic bag in her hands. She went to the pharmacy on the corner for it. Every movement is purposeful.<p>

This could be the stupidest thing she's ever done. Her cheeks burn and it's been ages since she's blushed like this. Continually.

But at least he's sick. She can blame it on his fever, if it doesn't work out, right?

Alexis is slipping out of the study as she comes through; the girl gives her a smile and a long hug, the book in her hand.

"He asleep?" Kate asks.

"No, but my voice is raw," Alexis croaks.

"It really is." Kate rubs her back and lets her go, the two of them heading for opposite directions.

Alexis back to chemistry and Kate to. . .her fate. Or doom. Something grand and tragic, with the potential for-

Shut up and open the door, Kate.

He smiles at her in the dim light of the bedroom - their bedroom? her stomach flutters - and his hand gestures her inside.

"You look a lot better," she remarks, stepping into the room. The plastic bag rustles and she drops it on the foot of the bed, sits down.

"Feel a lot better. Come up here."

She grabs the bag and sits perpendicular to him, takes a second to cool her cheek against the headboard, watching him.

He slips his arm around her knees, squeezes her ankle. "You still feeling better?"

She nods. "Much."

"Good." He releases her ankle, but leaves his arm draped over her.

She can't put this off any longer. Time to say what ought to have been said the moment she thought she might be pregnant. Even if though she wasn't, isn't, words should've been said.

Kate untwists the plastic bag and pauses, mentally going over her speech. It sounds clumsy and awkward now that she's faced with the moment, but she has no other words to fall back on.

"You know last night?"

His eyes dart to hers; she feels pinned, trapped. But it's good. This is what she needs. Him to keep her accountable.

"Last night," he repeats, his voice gruff.

"You said you couldn't ask for more."

He blinks and clarity washes over his features. "I have you. Alexis. It's more than enough."

"But-" Her palms are slick on the bag. "-if you could ask. Would you?"

His eyes drop to the bag, then travel slowly back up to her face. "Would I?"

He's going to make her say it again? She shoves down hard on the hysterical part of herself, presses her lips together. "You said you wouldn't ask for more. But if you could."

"Kate-" He looks like he wants her to stop talking, but she can't. It has to be said, has to.

"Ask me." That didn't come out right. She doesn't mean now, just- if he could ask, it would be her, only her he would ask, and-

"Yes," he says, struggling to sit up, closing his eyes once he gets there, a hand to his forehead, drifting down to his mouth.

She can't even reach out to help him; all of this has her as hard as stone. "Yes?"

"Are you asking me if I want to have kids with you? Because that's a yes, Kate Beckett. As many as you want to give me."

As many as. . .she wants. Her chest twists, but her hammering heart slows; everything is clear. She pulls the plastic bag off of the thing inside, hands it over to him.

He clutches the pregnancy test in his hands; she can't do anything but watch him cradle it even though she can feel his eyes on her, intense. Before he can say anything, she goes on, straightens her spine, puts some strength into her voice. "This is an IOU. When you're ready, when you think I'm ready. Because I trust you to know. Before I do. You'll know when it's right."

She finally raises her eyes to his. He swipes at his cheek and grabs her, crushes her against him, his lips in her ear, hot and shaky breath against her skin.

"Castle?"

"Oh God, Kate."

Her chest clenches with the sound of his voice. Everything in it, just. . .everything.

"I wanted it. . .I want it," she whispers, feels his mouth pressing against her skin, his arms hard around her, his body trembling. "Some day."

He clears his throat.

"Can I marry you first?"


End file.
